Won't Let You Go
by badge-and-pen
Summary: Beckett and Castle awaken into a new world of possibilities following 'Always,' but when a reporter starts to chronicle their lives in cruel detail, one of them finds themselves as the prime suspect for murder.
1. Crack the Shutters

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Chapter title and lyrics are from the Snow Patrol song Crack the Shutters.  
**

**-{ Chapter 1: Crack the Shutters }-**

_**Crack the shutters open wide  
I wanna bathe you in the light of day  
And just watch you as the rays  
Tangle up around your face and body  
I could sit for hours finding new ways  
To be awed each minute  
'Cause the daylight seems to want you  
Just as much as I want you**_

_May 9__th__, 2012_

Thin lines of sunlight slipped through the blinds in a wavering pattern, a slight breeze stirring its way into the room through the crack he had left the window open the night before. Richard Castle was not alone in the tangle of sheets that halfway covered his body. An arm was draped lazily over his abdomen, and a smile played across his lips as he lifted a finger to trace patterns across the back of her hand.

This was the part where he would be expecting to wake up, alone and disappointed, in this same lonely bed. Or at the very least, to roll over and find someone he wasn't expecting. But it had been a very long time since that had happened. He couldn't remember the last time he had gone out late and had a wild time. The past few years had seen late nights revolving around the precinct or Beckett's apartment armed with files and a few glasses of wine.

That would be happening a lot more often, now, wouldn't it?

She stirred, behind him, her arm slipping back across him and off. He rolled himself over to face her, and found her facing him, eyes just blinking open sleepily. An easy smile lifted the corner of her lips.

"Good morning," he said softly.

"'Morning," she murmured back, propping herself up on her elbow, long hair lifting off the pillow and cascading down her shoulders. She had never looked so beautiful to him.

She didn't say anything else, and neither did Castle. He wasn't sure how to start, to be honest. There was so much to be said. A line had been crossed, and they were seemingly in another universe entirely than they had been in the night before. Everything had changed… and for the most part, he still didn't know _why._ What had propelled her to come to him, last night. She had said she had almost died, and the reminder sent a twinge to his stomach. He would need the story, the _full_ story, at some point. He wanted to ask.

"This is nice," he said instead, reaching up hesitantly to play with a strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear. She met his stare openly, smile still fixed on her face. He lifted himself up to look for the time on the nightstand. The clock informed him it was past nine. "Do we have to… get to the precinct?"

She didn't seem fazed by how late they had slept in, but her eyes did pull away, focusing on the bed sheets between them. She traced a wrinkle with her index finger.

"There's something I have to tell you," she admitted, her smile vanishing and her brows drawing together in that serious way they always did before she said something difficult. She struggled with it for a long moment, and Castle put his hand on top of hers, stopping the nervous tracing motion.

"I'll make pancakes," he suggested. Her eyebrows instantly rose, eyes widening in surprise, and then she relaxed, smiling again. It was a relief.

"That… that sounds nice."

He rolled away from her and out of the bed, pulling on a pair of baggy pajama pants and a blue shirt with a hole in it before stepping into his slippers. He tugged on the blinds and the room lit with warm, early morning sunlight. Beckett stood up from the bed, her bare skin glistening in the light, and located her panties in the tangle of clothing on the floor. She pulled on one of his shirts and buttoned it up. He swallowed, slippers pattering on the floor as he made his way out to the kitchen. She followed barefoot, despite the cold of the hardwood floors.

Beckett didn't ask if he wanted help, she simply joined him at the counter, plucking the box of pancake mix from his hand as soon as he'd located it in the cabinet. Together, they set to mixing and flipping around one another, until they found themselves seated at the counter with dishes of pancakes in front of them and maple syrup between… and nothing to keep them from their discussion.

"These are good," Beckett said, sending him a sidelong glance as she took a second bite. He nodded along, saying nothing. She took the hint, her fork settling on the dish with a clank. She took a breath. "I resigned yesterday," she announced.

His fork dropped into his dish loudly, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline.

"You… resigned?" he asked, feeling like he must have heard her wrong. That was the last thing he had been expecting. Maybe they had given her time off after her as-of-yet undefined near-death experience, or maybe Gates had put her on leave for disobeying orders… but not this.

What did that mean? It had been… her decision?

The idea seemed odd. Unrealistic.

"I owe you the whole story," she said heavily, glancing at the pancakes and then pushing the dish away from herself, her decision made. He did the same, propping his elbows on the counter and offering her his full attention. He had a strong feeling he was not going to enjoy most of this tale.

"You told me to stop my investigation. That… that they would _kill_ me if I didn't stop. And I said no." She began. And then she didn't stop for a beat, launching into the tale. "After you left, I visited my mother's grave. Then… I went back to the precinct. Determined. I thought I was ready, even without you. Esposito and Ryan came up with the name Cole Maddox for our mystery man in the surveillance footage at the church. It was a cover ID, of course, but we got him through a car rental service: Eastway. He didn't return the car he rented out of JFK, and because the company keeps tracking devices on their vehicles, we were able to put him on the lower east side. Esposito and I went out to hunt him down… without backup. We went up to Maddox's room, and we found Montgomery's stolen files and the laptop. And that was where things went bad."

She ducked her head, taking a steadying breath. "I don't know where he came from—we had cleared the apartment first—but he hit me as I went around a corner, and knocked me down. He hit Esposito next, and I ran after Maddox alone, up onto the roof. We fought hand-to-hand, both of our guns knocked away, and then… he had me by the throat." Her voice quivered, just slightly, but Castle caught it. He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, but now he let it out, biting down the urge to ask questions, to intervene. She needed to finish telling before he interrupted, and he knew it.

"Castle… I don't know why he didn't kill me," she whispered, her eyes fixing on his for the briefest moment before flickering away again. "He just… he got me down and then he watched. Let me speak. He could have just killed me, right then, but he waited…" Castle couldn't sit still. He reached out a hand and placed it over hers, watching as she jumped slightly from the contact. A smile flickered momentarily on her lips, but ultimately vanished. Her brows drew tightly together again.

_"You're wasting your time, detective…"_ she shook her head. "That's what he said to me. He said I had _no idea_ what I was up against." The next part seemed to take forever for her to force out. "I launched myself at him, and he used my momentum against me. The next thing I knew… I was hanging over the side of the building by my fingertips."

Castle swallowed, the writer in him picturing the scene far too clearly. He could have written it. Would have written it, in fact. It was his style, through and through. He shivered, suddenly wondering how he could put his fictional Nikki into any sort of danger when all he wanted to do at the slightest hint of a threat against Beckett was wrap her in his arms and never let her go.

"Ryan pulled me up," she muttered tightly. "With a back-up team. Gates was there." She shook her head, and finally met his eyes. There was a simple clarity in her gaze, and a shadow of fear. "I thought it was you, coming for me."

"I was at Alexis' graduation," he said quietly, and she nodded.

"Gates put me and Esposito on administrative leave… and then I resigned."

"You came here," Castle said, a sudden wave of alarm shooting through him. She had just almost died. And then she had quit the very job that defined her. She had come to him after all of that… what did that mean? That she had been making rash decisions all day and he was the last of them? It didn't look like she was regretting any of it, right now, but what about later? Would this bliss last? Would they still be making pancakes a week from now? Could they last on a legacy like that? Could they become something else?

_I almost died and all I could think about was you._ The words echoed to him from the night before.

Maybe they could make it. The night before… it certainly argued for it.

"Not right away," she said, jolting him back to the conversation. "I thought a lot, first. About us, about what you said… and I realized that you were right. And that you were just protecting me the only way you knew how. Because I was reckless and out of control. I let my mother's murder control me the way I never wanted to let it… and this time, when the bad guy got away, I didn't care." Slowly, she threaded her fingers through his. "Because I didn't want anything as much as I wanted you when I fell off the side of that building. I didn't want Maddox caught, I didn't want justice… I just wanted you to be there, pulling me up to safety. And you would have been, if I hadn't been so determined to push you away. And Ryan and Esposito… I didn't care what they had to say, so long as it was backing me up. If Ryan hadn't done what was best for me, the way you were trying to do, I'd be dead right now."

Castle squeezed her hand, and she fell silent at last. He could see the exhaustion in her face.

"I'm pretty sure that at some point last night… I conveyed the fact that I forgave you. But in case that failed… I do forgive you, Kate. For all of it." _As long as you're done with this, for good._

She nodded, and then he watched her brow crease for a fraction of a second before she leaned forward tentatively, a curiosity in her eyes as she tilted her head and met his lips tenderly. He closed his eyes, moving his lips with hers, and before he knew what was happening, her tongue was tracing his upper lip and he was probing into hers and they were settling into a wonderful dance, a competition for dominance and a war of affection. Their hands fell loose from one another's, moving to explore as one of his traced down the curves of her body to settle at her hip and the other found its way up her back and wrapped around to cup the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him. Hers gripped the front of his shirt, running periodically over the expanse of his chest and shoulders. He sank into the sensations, tasting her and drinking in everything about her, like she might vanish at any second.

Beckett was the one to pull away, gasping, eyes wide and chest heaving.

He almost gasped out a _wow_, but found himself suddenly chuckling, eventually bursting into all out laughter as the corner of her lip twisted upwards and her eyes danced with mirth. Her laugh was beautiful; his favorite sound.

Yesterday, they had been fighting, yelling at each other over the case that she couldn't let go. And today… they were making out wildly in his kitchen over pancakes. It seemed positively absurd, and they were both recognizing that.

"I think our pancakes are getting cold," she observed pointedly, a lightness in her voice. Her burdens had been lifted, her story told. Forgiveness was hers. He felt as light as air, and he knew she must be somewhere close by.

He picked up his fork and tried a bite, making a face. "These weren't all that good to start with, really." She tested hers as well, and then a laugh bubbled out of her throat as she chewed, and she covered her mouth.

"Terrible, right?" he exclaimed, and she nodded. He tilted his head, an idea working its way into his head. "Tell you what. Let's go get brunch. Somewhere nice."

"Brunch?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, come on, it'll be fun. Besides… we're both out of a day job, last I checked."

She ducked her head, scrunching up her lips. "Brunch it is."

Castle glanced towards the door. "We should get moving, before Alexis or my mother makes an appearance."

"Ashamed, now, are you?" Beckett asked teasingly, scraping her plate off into the trash can.

"Nope. But I don't feel like explaining. And awkwardness was not in my morning forecast."

Beckett had no real choice but to wear the same outfit that she arrived in, which was wrinkled but had at least dried after the rain it had endured the night before.

"We'll stop at your place," he promised, and she smiled gratefully. He went for jeans and a purple collared shirt, and then they both slipped out, thankfully not running into his daughter or anyone else for that matter on their way out of the building.

Being in Beckett's apartment was entirely different from being in his own. She had stood _there_, by the large painting, when she had turned around and accused him of betraying her, not far over twenty-four hours ago. And _there_ was where he had stood, professing the love that she was already well aware of.

It had not escaped his attention that she had not returned the statement. There had been plenty signs of it, with the way their bodies had melded and the way she had touched him, with the warmth of her kisses… all the indicators were there. He had no intention to press the point. While hearing Beckett say that she loved him back would make him the single happiest man in the entire city, it was obvious she just wasn't ready to say it out loud.

There was plenty of time for that, if things kept going the way they were going. He had high hopes for the first time in a long time, when it came to his possible future with Beckett.

She came out of her bedroom in dark jeans, tall boots, and a smooth red button-up shirt. Stopping short just in front of him, she smiled and then hooked her fingers through his. They hovered for a second, the air between them warm.

_Brunch?_ she seemed to be questioning. _Hm. Brunch_, he thought.

He swallowed. "Brunch technically goes until like… three in the afternoon," he said informatively.

"Does it?" Beckett asked with mock curiosity, her face now only inches from his. Their noses brushed.

The kiss started softer, with less of an urgency than the one they had shared over their non-breakfast. She sucked on his lower lip, face tilting into his, and he let out a low sigh that came out more like a moan. He could feel her smiling, and then the light brush of air as she laughed once, almost silently. The tip of her nose traced up his cheek, her tongue catching the corner of his lips. He pulled back, taking control as he recaptured her lips with his own. Their bodies pressed flush to one another, every curve melding to fit perfectly. They were interlocking puzzle pieces; they belonged together.

Never had that been as clear as it was now.

He bent his head to kiss her collarbone, trailing slowly up her neck. Her head fell back on a pleasant sigh, and then she gasped as he took her earlobe lightly between his teeth.

His back was pressed against a wall, and he had no idea how he had gotten there, but Beckett's hands were on his shoulders, her fingers grasping firmly as she raised herself up and kissed him with a fresh ferocity. As her kisses slowed, he flipped them around, and she gasped as she found herself pinned to the wall instead. He returned his attentions to her collarbone, hands sliding up from her hips and blindly fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. He managed the first few, but the rest came loose when Beckett tugged at the shirt herself, forcing them to step away from the wall as she shed it and stood before him in just her black satin bra.

They stood apart for a split second, staring at each other and breathing heavily, and then Beckett seized his hand and tugged him in the direction of her bedroom, a place he had never seen before. Last night, he reminded himself, had been her first sight of his bedroom, too.

She used his momentum to toss him on the bed before her, and then crawled up to straddle his waist as she started on his buttons, intent on evening their ratio of skin to clothing. Her hands were warm on his bare skin when he was free of the shirt fabric, nails tracing exhilaratingly down his chest to the line of his waistband.

He was already straining, the jeans too tight. She rocked against him and he groaned, eyelids fluttering as his head fell back into the silky comforter. It was red, like her shirt had been. Where had her shirt ended up? It didn't matter.

Her hair fell in long curls, the tendrils teasing against his skin as she bent again to his lips, her body falling along his and allowing him to roll them over so he could prop himself up on his knees and gaze down at her. Her eyes were dark, eager, her lips just slightly parted. They both moved for the other at the same moment, his fingers locating the clasp on her bra and hers working at his belt.

For a moment, there was a flurry as they fought with their clothing, and then they were skin on skin, and Beckett awkwardly yanked the comforter out of the way so they could fall into the cool wrap of sheets, tumbling together and pressing closer, hungrily kissing as Castle positioned himself over her, their eyes meeting darkly, filled with need, and then they were joined, moving into a rhythm with one another and falling as one, lips locked and bodies intertwined, so that one could not be told from the other.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

Kate Beckett had no idea what she was doing. It seemed that, for years, she had just decided to do whatever she wanted. She had wanted to avoid her mother's case, so she kept it locked out of sight and out of mind. Then she had wanted it solved, and she had put so much effort into the cause that she had nearly gotten herself killed… multiple times over.

And now… now she wanted Castle.

The only thing that stopped her from fearing she was going about this all wrong was the fact that he seemed to wholeheartedly agree that they were on the right track. The light-hearted man-child she had come to know over the past few years had become the voice of reason in her unstable world somehow, one of the few who dared to speak against her convictions. He had her best interests at heart, always, no matter the situation.

If there was one thing that she knew about Castle, it was that he was a good man.

Being with him felt more right than anything she had ever done in her life. It was a stark contrast to her feelings about her mother's murder investigation. It was a black pit of death and conspiracy, and he was a light at the end of the tunnel, pulling her onto dry land.

No, she did not regret her decision.

But she worried.

What was it that Castle had said? That the reason she was alive was because she had stopped looking? Well, she had started looking again. It didn't matter that she was now done with the investigation, that she had chosen Castle over her obsession with the case. She had broken whatever contract Castle had been a part of, and now here she was, waiting to see if somebody would try to kill her all over again.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, frowning just slightly as she washed her hands. Castle had gotten them a table, and then she had excused herself to the restroom. The brunch place—an apparent favorite of his—was called "Lucy's" and featured old-style bar stools and a country feel, right in the bustling center of New York City. She had never heard of it, but she understood at once why Castle liked it so much. It was the sort of place that looked like it had a history, same as The Old Haunt. He pointed out his favorite counter seat when they stepped in the door, and told her he had come up with the closing lines for 'Heat Wave' while scribbling ideas on napkins there.

This place was one of his more recent finds.

She wondered what his plans were. She was certain they involved spending the night again, but at her place or his? Surely his mother and daughter would be home by now. She remembered awkwardly trying to explain her presence before, when her apartment had been blown up and she had truly had nowhere else to go.

Martha, though, was always so wonderful about it. As much as Castle liked to comment about how she lived with him, and complain about all the crazy and wild things that she did, Beckett knew he was only slightly serious. Martha was the sort of person that made coming home worthwhile, even if—like family was so good at doing—she drove him a little crazy every now and again. And Alexis was always lovely. She remembered Castle saying _she looks up to you_, and shook her head at her reflection. She was involved with Castle, now. Where she had become a part of his life before last night, the line that they had crossed put her in a different position entirely.

They had not defined their relationship, but they were in one… no matter how dysfunctional.

Things were going to be changing a great deal. She wasn't sure if she was ready for just how much those changes would alter her life.

For now, though, she could just focus on having brunch with Castle.

She dried her hands and stepped out of the restroom, finding their table with her gaze and stopping short. Castle was in his seat, and standing beside the booth having a conversation with him were none other than Alexis and Martha themselves.

Castle was a frequent customer here, and apparently… so were they.

Taking a steadying breath, she made her way through the sea of tables to join them, attempting to put a natural smile on her face.

"Oh, Beckett, there you!" Martha beamed, hugging her without qualm. "Sit, sit!" the red-haired woman insisted, and Beckett ducked into the booth across from Castle. He smiled reassuringly.

"We won't keep you from your menus," Martha continued. "We were just leaving. I was telling Richard," she said, focusing on Beckett, "That we had dropped by to see if he was interested in coming with us, but no one was home. And then look! Here you both are! You'll join us for dinner?" she added. Beckett felt like there was only one right answer to that question.

"I… sure. That sounds lovely, Martha."

"Oh, good! Come on Alexis, let's do some shopping and then see about what we can whip up for tonight. You kids have fun!" she added over her shoulder. Alexis waved, giving her dad a narrowed look that said she knew exactly what was going on. But it was coupled with a real smile, which she turned towards Beckett as well before hurrying to keep up with the hurricane that was Martha. The two vanished with a tinkling of bells over the front door.

"Well, the cat's out of the bag," Castle said, lifting a menu and glancing through the list of offerings.

"Did you want to keep us a secret from them?" Beckett asked, picking up her own menu and keeping the question casual.

He shook his head, frowning. "Of course not. But they're nosey enough as it is. If they hadn't been here first, I might think they'd followed us."

"Has she… done that before?"

Castle chuckled. "My mother is hardly subtle. She likes you, so be warned. If the apartment is full of roses and wine when we get back, it's not my fault."

Beckett laughed out loud, shaking her head. "And what would she do if she _didn't_ like me?"

Castle shrugged. "Probably put out a bunch of framed photographs of me and past girlfriends. Recently, she's favored the one I have of the two of us."

Beckett raised an eyebrow, feeling a light blush rising in her cheeks. Castle had a framed picture of the two of them? And Martha had used it to ward off women that she hadn't liked? She had no idea if she should feel flattered or not.

They ordered, Castle choosing the eggs benedict with hash browns and Beckett going for an omelette with bacon. Together, they kept the conversation light and easy, avoiding the serious topics of her former job, the still unsolved case of her mother's murder and her own shooting, and the impending possibility that a killer could be lining her up in the crosshairs at any point in the near future.

Instead, Castle told her about how he spent the money from his first best-seller back in college, a tale that was long and winding and included him consuming a great deal of alcohol. She asked him about the naked horseback riding incident, and he filled her in on the very drunken night which led up to his grand finale of getting himself arrested.

Even when he wasn't making things up, he had a captivating story-telling ability. It occurred to her, several times, that he could be easily fabricating the details. But she knew he wasn't, because he wouldn't lie to her. That knowledge alone would have been enough to keep the smile on her face as she laughed along with him with each twist and turn of his unfortunate tale.

When had things changed? When had he suddenly become this funny, sweet, caring man instead of the arrogant, obnoxious, pain-in-her-ass that had started following her around four years ago? Looking back, she could see the same old Castle that sat before her now. Light-hearted and eager, with wild theories and charming quips. And across from him all that time ago sat a tight-lipped Beckett with short red hair and cold eyes, irritation vibrating from every pore.

Things hadn't changed, she realized.

_She had_. And he had been the reason.

She watched the way his eyes crinkled, the way his whole face changed when he was laughing. She watched the way his hair flopped slightly across his forehead, and focused on the sharp line of his jaw.

She was in love with him, with the way he sounded, the way he talked, the way he made her feel. Where once he had been an image on the back of the novels that got her through the abyss following her mother's death, he was now the grounding force in her entire life.

He was everything, and she loved him.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

_May 10__th__, 2012_

Doctor Lanie Parish wore a smug smile as she sipped her coffee across the table from her best friend. Beckett avoided her gaze, nails scraping at a stain on the tablecloth as she slowly stirred her coffee, focusing intently on the swirl of the hot liquid, steam rising rapidly.

"You had better be planning on giving me more details, girl," the coroner intoned calmly, leaning forward. She set her coffee down. "And at some point I want to hear that you finally told Castle how you _feel_."

Beckett coughed. "I think I _showed_ more than told."

Lanie's eyes widened and she wagged her eyebrows. "That's my girl. But a real conversation, at some point. Promise me that?"

She sighed. "I'll talk to him. Soon. I just… haven't had the opening. And he hasn't brought it up since we… got together."

"Alright, tell me again. With more details."

Beckett cleared her throat, and started the story once more, from the beginning. She hesitated over where that was, though, finally skipping past her new experience with heights and rooftops and going straight to what happened when she arrived at Castle's door.

Lanie listened with open enthusiasm, 'aweing' appropriately at their attempts to make pancakes the following morning. Then she got to dinner, which she had been holding back on explaining in any detail. Lanie sensed her hesitation.

"Spill it, Beckett," she intoned, only halfway teasing, and Beckett cast her a semi-serious glare before heaving a sigh.

"Martha and Alexis made spaghetti and meatballs with a side salad."

"Mm," Lanie murmured appreciatively.

"Castle told me that her creations could be rather unpleasant, but it was delicious."

"What was the problem?" Lanie asked, frowning. Of course she could tell that there had been a problem. Beckett twisted her mouth, trying to figure out just how to explain it.

There was nothing that had been said or done. It was just… the general feeling she had gotten from her interaction with Castle's mother and daughter. The pleasant conversation and warm smiles couldn't mask the fact that they were not altogether pleased with her involvement with Castle.

"I don't think they like me," she admitted at last, feeling stupid and petty. She waited for Lanie to tell her she was overreacting, that of course they loved her, but she didn't. Instead, her best friend's head tipped to the side and she pursed her lips.

That couldn't possibly be a good sign.

"You told me that Castle knew about how you lied, when you said you didn't remember anything. Which by the way, girl, you are still not off the hook with me for. Thank you very much."

Beckett winced. "I'm sorry. I just… I…" She sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "I didn't want to admit that it happened, because I was trying to pretend that it _didn't_."

"Right, well, beyond that… if Castle knew, who do you think he would tell?"

A light bulb went on. "His mother," she groaned, her head falling back. She pushed her hair out of her eyes, rubbing her palm over her forehead. If Castle had confided in Martha, she had every reason to dislike Beckett for her actions. And Alexis… while she doubted that Castle had spoken to her directly on the issue, it was more than likely that the teenager had picked up on some things on her own. She had been there, after all, during those three months when Beckett had failed to call him.

They probably thought she was going to hurt Castle.

That was what the look on their faces had been, the one she hadn't been able to describe: wariness.

"Shit," she muttered.

Lanie smiled sadly. "There you go, sweetie. That answer your questions?"

"A little _too_ well," Beckett muttered, her head spinning. She had no idea how to deal with that, or if she was expected to at all. "What do I do, now?"

Lanie shrugged. "You prove to them that your only intention is to make Castle happy. When they see that in motion, they'll go straight back to loving you. Because let's be honest, you already won them over years ago."

"Winning people's good graces is a lot more difficult the second time around," Beckett recited, remembering a conversation she had had with her father, years ago. She had found it to be true, time and time again. It occurred to her that she should call her father, sometime soon. Would he want to meet Castle? _Had_ he met Castle before? Would she be expected to host some sort of dinner with the three of them?

She pushed away the thought, cringing. There were many ways in which that could be a fun evening. And many ways in which it could _not_ be. Her mother would have liked Castle. She was sure of it, no matter how awkward dinners like that could be.

"If anyone can do it, Kate, it's you," Lanie assured, tipping her coffee cup in the detectives direction before taking a sip.

Beckett nodded slowly. It wasn't as if there was another option available. And Lanie wasn't wrong; Alexis and Martha had liked her at one point. All she had to do was protect Castle, and they would see that she had never meant to hurt him in the first place. This was what she had wanted all along: to be with Castle. There had just been… things in the way, before.

Things that didn't matter enough anymore to hold her back from what she truly wanted.

A thought occurred to her.

"Have you talked to Esposito since… what happened?"

"Yes," Lanie said openly. "It took him awhile to work up the courage, but finally he called me. About time, too."

"You're interrogating me about Castle and you don't even mention that there's progress with you and Esposito?" Beckett demanded teasingly. "Come on, spill."

Lanie grinned unabashedly. "Let's just say we didn't get much talking in. But we're going out for dinner tonight. If this whole situation wasn't so _messed up_ I'd say double-date, but…"

Beckett nodded. "I know. But… soon."

Lanie nodded. "Soon."

She left her meeting with Lanie feeling more confident than she had upon her arrival, and made her way back to her own apartment. Castle had already asked her out to dinner tonight and she had every intention of returning to his apartment well before then, but she needed to change and possibly pack an overnight bag so that she would have clean clothing available.

A shower with her own hair products might be nice, as well.

It was almost strange, how her apartment reflected the change in her relationship. She had left the shades up, so the place was bright and warm when she pushed the door open. She saw Castle everywhere, from their last encounter here. And then she paused by the wall, turning to face his ghost as it told her why he had betrayed her.

She swallowed sharply.

There were still some things that they had failed to discuss. He hadn't brought up his confession of love once since they had given into their feelings, and she suspected he was trying not to pressure her into returning the sentiment before she was ready.

She knew how she felt. She _knew_ it. But there was something still holding her back from saying it. She wasn't sure what it was, only that the words seemed unable to cross her lips. Every time she looked at him, she felt it. And then she felt the tug, pulling her back onto safe ground. She wanted him. She wanted to _be_ with him.

The fear was real, though. Real, and yet undefined.

When she stepped back out of the apartment, though, she was greeted with yet another under-discussed issue. On her neighbor's doorstep sat a thick newspaper.

The headline read _"Detective 'Nikki Heat' Resigns from NYPD"_.

**A/N: I have just made the shift from Bones fanfiction over on the account _TempeJill_, and intend to take up residence as a more permanent Castle writer now. I hope some of you will share your thoughts with me, to let me know what you think of this story so far! There will be roughly eight chapters in total, and I intend to have them all up before the premiere on the 24th. **

**Also, someone pretty please let me know where this falls on the T/M rating scale. Because this is as steamy as I've ever written on this site, and I seriously have no idea where that fuzzy line is located as far as this story goes. Putting it as T for now.  
**


	2. City of Black and White

**A/N: Title and lyrics are from _City of Black and White_ by Mat Kearney.  
**

**-{ Chapter 2: City of Black and White }-**

_**Cause I don't want to wait until tomorrow  
To tell you how I feel the rest of my life  
You don't want to waste another minute when you realize  
Walking on the dark side of the evening  
Maybe it was you who opened my eyes  
Burning like a fire on the water  
The city of black and white  
Won't you just stay  
Won't you just stay  
I'm on the top still looking down  
And coming up to me is where the whole world wants to be found  
Golden rings and coffee brown  
There's a white flag waving where my heart is on the ground**_

_May 17__th__, 2012_

Alexis Castle had seen her father in a great number of relationships growing up. She had gotten used to ignoring the overnight visitors when she got to an age where she understood the reasoning behind the sleepover. For a time, when she had been younger, she had rather hated the whole thing. As any child would, she craved the simplicity of a two parents household, where she could expect the same two people to be at the breakfast table every morning.

Now, she understood the divorce. She understood how much better they all were when her mother stayed in California and sent birthday cards and had monthly Skype conversations with her about boys and classes and shoe sales.

They were all safer when her mother wasn't on the verge of dropping into her principal's office every day with news of another imaginary dead relative.

Through all of the relationships she had watched her father transition through, though, none of them had been quite like the one he had forged with Detective Beckett.

Alexis was still torn on the subject.

It seemed as if, since meeting Beckett, all of his attention had been diverted to solving cases and playing the cop that he was not. Writing murder mysteries was one thing. It was safe. He stayed locked up for days in his study sometimes, fingers flying across the keyboard as he ground out the grisly details, occasionally making an appearance only as a scavenger, bearded like a straggly homeless man and wearing a mismatched outfit, hunting down a box of crackers or a peanut butter sandwich before vanishing once more into his cave.

That was the situation she was familiar with.

Other times, he would sit out in the living room, tapping, frowning, tapping some more, and then holding down the backspace key. In the months before Beckett had approached them at that book signing, he had been trapped in a pit of writer's block, wavering on the line between frustrated and gleefully disobedient as he dodged calls from his publisher and indulged in extended games of laser tag after foregoing all attempts at progress.

That, too, she had learned to accept as normality in the Castle loft.

When Beckett had been introduced into their lives, though, everything had shifted. Gone off-balance. There were no more strange women, and the writer's block had not reared its head. For the first time in her life, Alexis came home more often than not to an empty home when school let out. Her father was off at the precinct or running around after Beckett, and at first the alone time seemed like a welcome change. She took to studying in the open spaces of the loft instead of holed up in her bedroom, and found a favorite spot in the corner of the couch.

Eventually, the small luxuries paled in comparison to the other changes, though.

Namely, with the shooting.

Alexis had never seen a dead body until she had begun working with Dr. Parish this past year. Her first had very nearly been Beckett.

She had never heard a gunshot coming from anything other than the television. Not a real gunshot, anyways. There had been parades and track meets… but none of that even registered on the scale. Not in comparison to the sound that cut so sharply through the cemetery.

For years, she had worried about him chasing after criminals. He would come home with stories about shoot-outs and life-saving antics, and she would listen in silence while Gram greeted his tales with a 'my goodness, Richard!' and a disapproving head shake.

Somehow, though, she had never reached the depths of _real_ fear until after that evening. From that moment forward, she had felt like every day might change her life. Might spell the end of her father. Not only if he found himself on the wrong end of one of those bullets, but also if Beckett wound up in the line of fire once again.

Where once she had seen a brave woman to look up to, a steady, grounding figure in her father's life, now she could not help but see someone selfish.

Beckett pulled her father into danger. Where he might decide to go running into trouble, she did not stop him.

He had told her, when she had asked, that Beckett made him happy. She had only been partially satisfied with that answer. She was always glad to see a smile on her father's face. At what cost did that smile come, though? How many times in the past few months had he risked his life to save hers?

And he would keep on doing it, too, because she wasn't going to stop him.

Alexis wasn't stupid. Her father was head-over-heels in love with Beckett. He looked at her in a way he had never looked at any other woman he had been with, as far as Alexis remembered. He treated her like the most important thing in the world.

She would deny it if anyone asked, but to herself Alexis had to acknowledge at least a smidge of jealousy.

That was not why she found herself concerned with her father's choice of relationship, though.

The main reason she worried was because her father had driven himself into the ground for three months trying to catch her shooter and then had spent the rest of the year in a tug-of-war, love-hate relationship with her. The more she heard, the more Gram discussed with her over their lonely breakfasts, the more she became sure that Beckett was no longer a positive influence in his life. He was going to break because she wouldn't return his feelings.

When she and Gram had run into the pair of them at brunch she had known, just as Gram had, that it was no work outing. Despite Gram's outward enthusiasm, Alexis could see the concern in her eyes the moment they turned for the exit and left her father and Beckett to their meals. They were both worried.

Now, she sat at the kitchen counter with a bowl of cereal, the front page of the morning paper clutched in her left hand as she tapped her spoon restlessly against the ceramic, milk swirling. The title printed just below the main headline read 'Author Richard Castle finally settling down?' over an image of him and Beckett at a charity event from the night before. She scanned through the first lines of the article, which alluded to the couple's recently close behavior, highlighting a number of other events they had attended together in the past week.

Alexis sighed, folding the paper and letting it slap back onto the counter. She watched as her frosted flakes spun around in the mini whirlpool, and let her spoon still, her head propped up in her free hand.

"Good morning!" crowed Gram, making her grand entrance, floral nightgown streaming gracefully behind her, hands raised over her head.

"'Morning," Alexis echoed with far less enthusiasm.

Gram scanned the paper as she rounded the counter on her way to the refrigerator.

"Looks like your father made quite an entrance at that Leukemia Benefit last night."

"Yeah," she said distractedly, deciding her cereal was too soggy to consider eating. She let the spoon drop. Maybe she could just spend the afternoon working on her college list, so that they could start some organized shopping soon. But, it was more likely she would focus on her new project.

"Is everything all right, dear?" Gram asked, breezing around the kitchen as she prepared some sort of egg dish for herself.

"Tired," Alexis said. It was only a half-lie. She hadn't gotten much sleep last night, having spent most of it at her computer doing research.

Beckett's resignation had put him off the police force for the time being, but it wouldn't keep him there forever. It wasn't as if Beckett was going to remain unemployed forever. Maybe for now they were content with their extended holiday from responsibility… but Alexis, practical as ever, was aware that things like that were transient. Always changing.

Their vacation was far from permanent.

And even if they intended to keep it up for as long as they could… something would pull them back. Beckett's mother's murder. The case that kept almost getting her father killed. The one that he had refused to give up but had deleted from his high-tech murder board last week.

She climbed the stairs back up to her room, feeling Gram's curious eyes following her, and shut the door behind her before she dared extract the flash drive from where she had taped it under her desk drawer. She plugged it into her computer, and then picked up right where she had left off last night: filling herself in on every last detail of the investigation that might mean the difference between her father's life and his death.

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

Castle slipped through the door ahead of Beckett, a dull buzzing in the back of his head indicating that the hangover wasn't quite gone, yet. The apartment was bright, and he blinked.

There was no sign of either Alexis or his mother. After the benefit last night, he and Beckett had retired to his personal suite at the hotel. He was sure they had made due without his company this morning, though. They always did.

"Anyone home?" he called up the stairs, rapping his knuckles on the railing.

A door opened, and Alexis appeared over the bannister.

"There's my girl!" Castle grinned. "Did Gram make breakfast?"

Alexis shook her head. "I had cereal."

"Well, let me know when you get hungry and I'll whip us all up some of my famous grilled cheese. Ooh! And please tell me you haven't made plans for tonight. I've got a signing and you know how much I like company."

She rolled her eyes when he tucked in his lips and raised his eyebrows pleadingly, but she was smiling. "Fine. I'll see if Gram will keep me company while your signing… books." Her eyes flicked to Beckett, and then she flashed a hurried smile and disappeared. He heard her door close. She had been about to comment on his tendency to sign women's chests.

One look at Beckett told him that he was retiring that signature move. If the press wasn't already speculating, they would be by this evening.

"Hey! We made the front page!" he commented as he passed by the counter, tapping a finger on the picture of the pair of them at the event.

Beckett nodded, but did not comment. While he rooted out some mugs and started the coffee maker, she climbed onto one of the counter stools and began reading the article. He glanced at her periodically, watching the way the shadows on her face changed with the slightest alteration of her emotions. Her frown only deepened the crease between her eyebrows as her eyes darted back and forth over the print.

By the time he set her mug down on the counter, the stark white contrasting with the dark marble, she was deep into the paper… in the crime section. "Anything interesting?" he asked, aiming for nonchalant. His voice came out off-beat, though. Too eager.

She glanced up, the frown lines not dissipating in the slightest.

"Murder on the border of central park," she said. "The 12th is working on it."

He hovered to the side, coffee steaming in hand, and then managed to force out the question. "Ryan and Esposito..?"

"Just Ryan," she clarified, coughing slightly. "Esposito is still on suspension for two more weeks."

"Right," he said, remembering the details. She should be going back in two weeks, as well. But her badge was not waiting for her the way Esposito's was.

They hadn't talked about it, but he suspected she regretted her decision. Not to get together with him, but to resign. He had watched her perusing the classified section a few days ago, gaze hollow and helpless. He had sat beside her and turned on the television, hoping his presence, his warmth pressed to her side, might alleviate some of the stress. She didn't want to talk about it—that fact was written all over her face any time he started to work up the courage. Like clockwork, she saw the shift in him and sent out a warning beacon with just her expression. Then he clamped his mouth shut, turned his head, and changed the subject.

Eventually. Eventually they would have to talk about it. Just not yet.

He suspected that when those three weeks were up they would be forced out of their peaceful, passionate exploration of one another. Their tranquility had an expiration date, when she would have to recognize that things weren't going to go back to normal.

His mental calendar was marked to May thirtieth, and he had a plethora of ideas for things they could do in that time frame. Tonight there was the signing, and then they were retiring to his summer home in the Hamptons for Friday and Saturday and returning on Sunday in time for the Yankees vs. Reds game, to which he possessed box seats. He expected they'd be running into the mayor, and get a reading on how difficult it would be to get Beckett her job back. That was, if she wanted it. Which he knew she did.

The problem was, she would never ask for his help. Not for this, anyways.

"Have you talked to… either of them?" he asked tentatively.

"Who?" she asked distractedly. She was still looking at the paper, and he followed her gaze to see she was focusing on the title of another article: 'What Would Nikki Heat Do?' It said it was written by Jocelyn Tam, and it was tucked below the article on the murder in Central Park.

_'It seems that fact really is different from fiction, at least in one aspect. Kate Beckett, well-known detective for the NYPD out of the 12__th__ precinct, garnered her recent fame as the inspiration for the main character in best-selling author Richard Castle's new series of mystery pulp fiction novels. Stepping down last week, though, is out of character compared to her alter ego, who was up for a promotion in 'Heat Rises': a promotion that Beckett herself never encountered. Her resignation has gone without comment from the NYPD, where officials refuse to explain the reason behind her termination and fellow officers will only say that she will be missed on the force._

_ 'The one way in which Castle seems to have captured her actual character seems to be mirrored in his alter ego's relationship with 'Nikki Heat.' The two have been spotted together at a number of high-class events since her departure from the NYPD. One might theorize that he was the reason for her resignation in the first place—'_

"Ryan and Esposito," Castle answered her question, snapping his eyes up from the page and wondering how much further she had gotten into the article.

"No," she said slowly, still clutching the newspaper. He could see the veins standing out on the back of her hand. She shook her head to clear it. "I spoke with Lanie yesterday, though. Esposito is spending most of his time with her, now. Apparently he's more bored than anything else. She told him that he could always have a look at the case behind the scenes, but him and Ryan aren't speaking."

Castle frowned. "You didn't mention that before. Did they get in a fight after I… left?"

"In a way." She sighed. "I told you that Ryan pulled me back up onto that roof, and that Gates was with him. Esposito is angry with him for going behind our backs to Gates and pulling the plug on the investigation."

"Ryan saved your life," Castle said, raising an eyebrow. His statement was part question.

"Yes, he did. Which is why Lanie thinks that Espo really wants to make up with Ryan but can't do it. Something about some guy code. Whatever it is, they're not making any effort to fix things."

"I get it," Castle said, and he did. While Ryan had done the right thing in saving Beckett's life, he had also turned traitor by going against the group decision. He had put their jobs on the line on a hunch. Sure, that hunch had paid off because it had turned out that Beckett needed saving, but the principle was still there. The outset of betrayal.

"The two of them are like two halves of the same person," Beckett commented. "They can't _survive_ without one checking up on the other."

"Once Esposito is back on the job they'll find a way to settle the score," Castle said, and for a moment he believed it. But then the look on her face, even if it was only there for the briefest of seconds, reminded him that things would not be the same at the 12th. Even with the Roach Coach back on track, the underlying reason for their dispute came from Beckett.

And she was gone from their team.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

_May 20__th__, 2012_

The newspapers on the counter, when they returned from the Yankees game, were refreshingly free of headlines featuring their names. Beckett still felt the need to read through them, though, pouring herself a glass of ice water and listening as Castle turned up the air conditioner before hopping in the shower. The hum of the machine in the window dulled as the water turned on, and she let her hair fall like blinders as she burrowed herself in the news with the peaceful backdrop of domestic noise.

Jocelyn Tam, the same reporter who had written the first article on her resignation and potential involvement with Castle, had published another two in the past few days: one from Friday and another this morning.

_'It would appear that recklessness was ultimately Beckett's downfall,' read one line. 'An anonymous source close to the former detective reveals that she had ignored protocol a number of times in recent years, and that another incident had led to a long-term suspension in coupling with one Detective Javier Esposito, also of the 12__th__ Precinct.'_

Beckett scowled at the words. Anonymous source? Who had this Tam woman talked to? Surely not someone at the 12th, as no one would have indulged a fanatic reporter. Last she had talked to Lanie, the coroner had assured her that her fellow detectives were all still on her side. Maybe they didn't agree with her decision, but they certainly wouldn't have gone so far as to weasel out information on her and the case to the press.

Who was this Tam, anyways?

She slid Castle's laptop over from its perch on the edge of the counter, and propped it open, pulling up a search.

Jocelyn Tam was a pretty woman, about thirty years old, with smoothly tanned skin and curly hair. In the image on The New Yorker's website, she was smiling widely to reveal neat rows of whitened teeth, and red-rimmed glasses were perched on her nose. Her bio on the side informed Beckett that Tam had attended Brown University and had won several awards in journalism. They all had long names, but she was sure that Castle would recognize them.

She lived in Manhattan, like Castle, not far from this loft. There was no doubt in Beckett's mind that she was living more off of family money than off of any journalism success. These small pieces speculating on her and Castle's relationship were abstract news, hardly aspiring for the front page. Castle liked to think he was a celebrity, but in all honesty their relationship couldn't be all that interesting to outsiders. His loyal following was probably eating up every word that Tam printed, but the rest of Manhattan was barely taking note.

Her eye caught another line of Tam's article, beside a small picture of the two of them at the last book signing.

_'Only time will tell how the end of Castle's legendary bachelordom will affect his career.'_

She scoffed, flipping past the article and hunting down the crime section. There was nothing in Friday's paper, and she picked up that morning's edition and rooted through it. She paused on Tam's latest article, torn, and then gave in and began to read, knowing that she would only be curious until she got it over with.

_'An anonymous source close to Beckett has revealed earlier that this was not the first incident in which Beckett was involved. In the past, she has been removed from various cases and disobeyed direct orders, placing herself in danger and abusing police resources. Two years ago, she was removed from an investigation and subsequently got herself locked in a freezer, requiring rescue by fellow Detectives Kevin Ryan and Javier Esposito. More recently, she drove her police car off of a pier. The NYPD has refused comment on how it was removed or what taxpayer dollars contributed to in the recovery and restoration of the vehicle.'_

Those were confidential cases, the first of which had involved Homeland Security and the second of which had involved the CIA. Neither of them had been mentioned in the newspaper outside of listing the victim's names after the initial discovery of the body. It hadn't cost the NYPD a penny to rescue or to restore her Crown Victoria, but the NYPD could hardly explain that what with the nature of the case.

Where was Tam getting her information from? More importantly, from _whom? _Beckett still found it hard to believe that someone in her own precinct would dare reveal this much information. And to a reporter, no less.

Castle emerged into the kitchen, adjusting the cuffs on his purple button-up shirt. He was wearing a favorite pair of jeans and no socks. By now, the air conditioning's blast had put the loft on par with her apartment in winter. The cold was comforting, though, in contrast to the early summer heat outside.

He scowled when he saw the collection of newspapers in front of her.

"Not more articles?"

She nodded. "Two more, from that Tam woman."

"What's she saying now? I'm assuming she's not commenting on how handsome I am anymore."

"Is that what she used to do?" Beckett asked, smirking slightly. Why was she not surprised?

"To some extent. She wrote pieces on my new books when they came out, and did filler stories on my book signing events. She wrote one on you years ago, when I first started writing Nikki Heat."

"I assume she was nicer, back then."

He cringed. "Not really. She was less than thrilled by my decision to switch to a female lead after killing off Derek Storm. She thought I was hanging around James Patterson too much, picking up on his female-power vibes and losing my bad-boy style. Something along those lines."

"She sounds like my kind of woman," Beckett muttered sarcastically. "Let me guess, she's one of those scary people on your website. Castlelover01, or something to that degree?"

"Actually," he said, his voice peaking the way it always did before he launched into a long-winded theory that he was excited about, "You'd be surprised to learn that she actually has very little interest in me, personally. I met her once or twice. She's one of those workaholic types. Like you, except extreme. I'm her job, though."

Beckett raised an eyebrow. She already disliked this woman.

"Hey, there's a message on the machine," Castle commented curiously. She glanced over, having not even noticed the blinking '1' on the phone. He hit the button, and they both listened as the machine announced that the message had been left that morning at ten.

And then Ryan's voice came through the speaker. "Hey, Beckett. I figure I can reach you here since you haven't responded to any of my messages at _your_ apartment. Anyways, I really… need to talk to you. Can we meet up? Give me a call back as soon as you get the chance."

"Do you think it's about the Central Park case?" Castle asked hopefully, clearly eager to be consulted on an investigation. He was missing it as much as she was. He had asked her, earlier, if she wanted her job back. She had told him yes, seeing no point in lying. Of course, he had wanted to then pull all the stops on his powerful connections to have her reinstated immediately, but she had stopped him. That might work for him, but it wasn't going to work for her. She needed to work for her own solution, not just have it handed to her.

She shook her head in response to his question, pushing the paper in his direction. "They wrapped it up last night. The ex-boyfriend killed her after she stole their shared television."

"People are wonderful," Castle said with false cheerfulness, shaking his head.

"Aren't they? I should give Ryan that call back. He sounded…" she trailed off, looking for the right word.

"Distressed?" Castle filled in for her, and she nodded.

He snagged the phone from its cradle and handed it off to her, saying he was going to go check for mail downstairs. She nodded, understanding that he was getting out of the way for what was likely to be a private conversation. The Castle she had known only a few years ago would have stuck around like a burr in her side, failing to look even slightly inconspicuous with his eavesdropping.

She dialed for Ryan's cell rather than his desk at the precinct.

"Ryan," he answered promptly.

"It's Beckett," she said shortly. "You called?"

She heard a shuffling sound in the background, and then the distinctive thud of a door shutting.

"Yeah, I did. Listen, can you meet me at The Old Haunt in say… twenty minutes?"

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he brushed her off. "We just need to talk."

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

Castle had wanted to come along, but she had told him that this was something she needed to do by herself. And with the way Ryan was behaving, she doubted he would have responded well to a two-on-one situation. No, this needed to be just her.

The bar was relatively quiet, and she had no trouble spotting him in a booth along the left wall. He was alone save for the tall glass of ice water. Cindy the waitress brought one over for Beckett as well, recognizing her as she had no doubt recognized Ryan. They were honored guests in the establishment, with their relationship to the owner. They had refused enough alcoholic beverages while on shift for the staff to get the idea that water was more up to par.

She slipped into the booth opposite her former coworker, and he offered a grimacing smile.

"I'm glad you came," he admitted, fidgeting. "I know if I called Javi he wouldn't have."

A faint inkling of the reasoning behind this meeting stirred in the back of her mind.

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked simply, tearing open her straw and dunking it into the tall glass. The water was painfully cold, and the condensation on the sides had already slid into a slick pool on the wooden tabletop.

Ryan hesitated.

"Are you coming back?" he blurted finally, a fearful glint in his eyes. Like he already suspected her answer.

She sighed, leaning back in her seat. That was a hard question to ask even herself. Because she didn't fully know what she wanted, and even if she did… there was no guarantee it was possible. Well, with Castle's help, perhaps. But she had already affirmed that she didn't want it to go that way.

"I don't know, yet."

He nodded jerkily. "Have you, uh… talked to Esposito recently?"

"No," she said, her lips twisting into a regretful frown. Should she have called him herself? Probably. It had been over a week since they had handed over their badges and guns, and neither of them had talked about it. In a lot of ways, she was responsible for his suspension. Her decisions had put him in that place, after all, forcing him to decide the depth of his loyalty to their small, close-knit family.

She had put Ryan in that same situation. He had just chosen a different outcome.

"I haven't thanked you," she realized, and his eyebrows shot up almost skittishly.

"For what?" he asked, confusion written all over his face.

"Saving my life," she answered, as though it were obvious.

"Oh." He didn't seem to find her gratitude appealing. "If Espo was up there, he'd have done the same thing."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't mean for pulling me up onto that roof. Although that was nice. I mean… before that. Going to Gates."

Now he was staring at her as though she had just sprouted a second head.

"…Beckett, you realize Esposito hates my guts for that, right? You're out of a job because of what I did."

She was shaking her head long before he finished, lips pursed.

"Castle got it, way before any of us did," she explained. "I was on the wrong track. I pushed too hard; I let the case pull me in until I _couldn't_ be objective any more. And neither could Esposito." She leaned forward over the table, tapping the surface with her index finger for emphasis. "But you were, and you chose to not let me destroy myself. If you hadn't, Ryan… I would be _dead_ right now." _And I never would have gotten to be with Castle._

Ryan had a dumbfounded expression on his face.

"Just… just _clarifying_ here… but, you're not even _slightly_ angry with me?"

"Nope," she said easily, offering a reassuring smile. It was different, being out of work with Ryan. She was used to late night research sessions or even to case-closed celebrations here at The Old Haunt. But the two of them rarely got one-on-one time in a non-case-oriented setting. And normally, neither of them would be this open about their feelings. There was usually banter and warnings about over-sappiness. The rulebook had been tossed out the window, at least for this evening.

He hesitantly returned the smile.

"You should talk to Esposito. Work things out," she suggested, making a mental note to call him herself later this evening. Maybe if he understood that she wasn't upset with Ryan, he would be able to understand that he shouldn't be, either.

"I've already tried calling him. He ignores all of my messages."

"Well, he'll be back at work on the thirtieth," she reminded him. "And by then I'm sure he'll be ready for forgive and forget."

Ryan shot her a doubtful raised-eyebrow look, and she turned her gaze away and towards her water, taking another long sip from the straw.

"So, tell me about this Central Park case I read about in the paper," she said, her business-like tone lighting up an eagerness in his eyes. He launched into a description of the crime scene and the body, and, for just a short time, the two of them were able to pretend that they were still on the same team, like nothing at all had changed.

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

_May 30__th__, 2012_

Today was different, and they both knew it. From the moment they climbed out of the tangled sheets and made their way to the kitchen, they could feel the change. The shift in the atmosphere. Today was the day she would have been returning to the precinct.

She skimmed through the paper over her cereal bowl, and the scene would have been delightfully domestic had he not known what she was looking for. She paused on the seventh page, brows drawing together, and he swallowed sharply. He knew what she had found, because he had spoken to a reporter. Not Tam, just a woman who had pestered him at the bodega down the street.

In hopes of driving away the curious fans and the frustrating investigators, he had simply told them there was nothing to talk about. All of their theories were wrong, and he and Beckett were merely close. He doubted Tam would believe it, but perhaps it would keep the other tabloids at bay and keep Beckett out of the public eye.

He remembered far too well her reaction to the article that insinuated they were together, years ago. The way she had hated the concept of the press placing them together and talking about them. He had wanted to avoid that.

Now, he saw that it might have been a good idea to _tell_ her what he had said. He had been so caught up in worrying about today and what it meant… that he had completely forgotten about what he had told that reporter.

He cleared his throat, and he wished he could wish away the sudden fear in her eyes. Whether it was related to the article or today's date he couldn't tell. "Tonight is the Charity Ball," he reminded her, and she relaxed.

"Right," she said, nodding too quickly.

He had no idea how to bring it up. No idea how to introduce the one taboo of their relationship. Or non-relationship, depending on how one looked at it. They had not bothered with a definition. They had launched into this adventure together, spending the majority of it in bed, and neither had dared question the seriousness or depth of what they were getting into.

It would be a lie to say that his thoughts on that had not colored his response to that reporter the day before.

A mild definition was _exclusivity._ They were each other's, wholeheartedly. He had eyes for no other woman, and she had interest in no other man. Her things had slowly gathered into his apartment, to the point that her moisturizers, make-up, and shampoo crowded his bathroom and her clothing was encroaching on the halfway line in his closet. He doubted she had seen her own apartment once in this last week.

It would appear that their vacation had reached its expiration date, no matter how much either of them wished otherwise.

Perhaps it was for the better; perhaps it was about time they sat down and decided a few more details about their future together. He envisioned a quiet wedding in contrast to his loud, boisterous celebrations of the last two. He saw a country house and a redecorated loft. He pictured traveling down the road of parenthood with someone by his side for the first time.

And he mentioned none of it out loud.

If they got there, then he would be overjoyed. If they didn't… then wherever they ended up would be wonderful, as well. He imagined a lush garden and two lawn chairs, and a grey-haired Beckett.

She was the constant. No matter what path they were traveling down, she was going to be there. It was the only way he could see his life, anymore. She _had_ to be a part of it, or he was nothing.

He was too afraid of losing her to dare bring up the conversation they needed to have. At least, not without thinking it through much more thoroughly.

Beckett's coping mechanism was pointed in a different direction. One that didn't even register on his charts. She dropped her spoon into her mostly-untouched cereal, and yanked him off of his stool so she could kiss him fiercely, holding nothing back. She dragged him with her, by the collar of his shirt, to the bedroom they had only just emerged from moment's ago.

He hardly had a chance to register what she was doing, and when he opened his mouth to try to speak, she silenced him with her lips, forcing him into silence as she sent them both tumbling into the still tangled sheets. By now his breath was gone, anyways. She deftly relieved him of his shirt, and he moaned softly when she raked her fingernails down his chest.

She did not pause for reflection of sensuality. Her eyes were dark with need. Deep desperation vibrated off of her, and she continued her dual with his tongue as she threw her own clothing to the side and rid him of his pants. He was hardly keeping up with her actions, lost in the sensations, her scent wreathed around him and her hair falling in regal curls across his bare chest.

Beckett allowed him no option, taking the lead and straddling him on the bed, joining their bodies and hunting down her pleasure like a feral cat with no care but for instincts. This was self-preservation, or at least a last-ditch attempt at it.

She knew she was seeking a non-existent ending, yet that didn't stop her.

"We have to talk," he said heavily, his voice cloaked as he lay beside her, her body curled into his, arms wrapped around his frame and face shielded by damp hair.

She closed her eyes, nodded her acceptance.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

They chose a public location for their discussion, picking up hot dogs from a corner vendor and making their way into the now familiar park, where they settled onto the swings to eat.

"I came here the night that I resigned," she said, taking the lead that his determined silence had forced her into. "After I left the precinct, I came here and sat in the rain and I thought about why I didn't tell you that I remembered what you said when I was shot." She could see the surprise in his expression, and she took a breath before she continued. "For the longest time, Castle… I've let my mother's case consume me. I've let it give me conviction at work and control my personal life… and all it did was take me away from the things I really wanted. I let it do that."

"And then you changed that," Castle murmured, filling in the blank.

She nodded. "I found out what was really important."

They were both silent for a long moment.

"What… what _are_ we, Kate?" He asked finally, his voice quiet and serious.

She bit her lip, bowing her head. It was an excellent question.

"Because this… this is more than partners," he argued. He needn't have bothered with the vehemence; she knew that they were beyond partners, now. They had been for a while.

She remembered the article from this morning. The one that quoted him saying that they were just friends. She knew that he had been feeding the line to the press, but still… it had dug at her in a way that she found highly unpleasant.

Beckett wanted this definition just as much as Castle did.

"I chose you, over my mother's case and my job, Castle. Of _course_ we're more than partners."

He nodded slowly. "We're together," he said definitively. It was not a question. He held out his hand, and she laced her fingers through his, giving a squeeze.

"No matter what happens," she added firmly.

"…What _does_ happen, now?" Castle asked hesitantly, giving her a sidelong glance. His swing swayed slightly.

She sighed unsteadily, the breath whispering out through barely parted lips.

"I have to get a job," she said. She could see the look on his face, and she knew what he was thinking. He was thinking that she didn't _have_ to. That neither of them needed to work another day in their lives, with the money that he made. She could even map out the argument he could make, about how all the money from the Nikki Heat books should be partially hers, anyways. But he didn't say any of that, because he was thinking the same thing that she was.

She couldn't _not_ work. It was who she was, and she would never be happy, no matter how fun and exciting and new life with Castle could be, if she didn't have some greater purpose to work towards.

But she wasn't going to become a mall cop or a security guard. Never.

No, they both knew where she really belonged. The question was… how did she get back to it?

"I can always call the mayor," he suggested off-handedly, but she shook her head. That still wasn't the way she wanted to go about it. That would only put her in a permanently bad place with Gates, who was already opposed to her—and Castle—as it was. There had to be some other way to go about reversing her resignation, one that didn't involve going over Gates' head.

As much as she hated it, she had a fairly good idea of where she should start.

"I need to talk to Gates," she admitted heavily.

For once, Castle had nothing to say. He just nodded resignedly, lips pulled down to one side in a dissatisfied frown.

They both suspected what Gates would have to say in response to Beckett's request.

"I'll wait a few days," Beckett said quietly. She didn't want to come at Gates on the same day that Esposito was returning. That seemed like a bad decision from all angles.

"Let her cool off for a while longer," Castle agreed.

She hesitated, a realization slowly sinking in.

"Castle," she said, "Even if I do get my job back…"

"There's a very good chance I won't be a part of it anymore," he finished, surprising her.

She nodded reluctantly, and they both hovered there, letting that reality sink in.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

_June 1__st__, 2012_

Jocelyn Tam had been a busy woman, Beckett thought as she sat with a mug of steaming coffee and the newspaper, trying to decide if she was more furious or worn-out at this point with the trend in recent stories.

The reporter had published an extra-long article, and had been bumped up to the third page for her efforts. This one detailed Beckett's obsession with her mother's case, going through every relating case in the past few years and taking great pains to get the details right in her shooting of the hit man and her assault on Vulcan Simmons during his interrogation. Tam questioned the death of Montgomery and Beckett's failure to find a promotion during her career. She explored, in-depth, whether or not Beckett had suffered a mental break in the past month, mentioning that she had been seeing a therapist.

Beckett would have loved to know where her information was coming from.

"You shouldn't read that," Castle said disapprovingly, when he came around the corner.

"I want to know what they're saying. Even if it's nothing good. Isn't that why you read bad reviews?"

"No, I read them because my mother hunts for them in obscure newspapers and shoves them under my nose."

"Fair enough. But I have to know."

"I read it this morning," he admitted. "And I think you should sue for libel."

"On what grounds? Everything she says is true, and when it's not she puts her own opinion into the mix. She's allowed to say what she thinks."

Castle grunted noncommittally, clearly not agreeing. As much as she would like to get Tam off of her back, the lawyer in her would not stop listing all the reasons why the press could not be silenced. There was nothing she could do. Not unless Tam printed something completely false.

"I really don't like that woman," Castle muttered.

"Yeah, well, neither do I," Beckett sighed, finally folding the paper and setting it aside. Things were only going to get worse if she ever did get her job back, and she recognized that. Tam would have a field day. It was a wonder she didn't yet know about the appointment that Beckett had scheduled with Gates for later that week. Or perhaps she did, and was holding onto it for her next ground-breaking article.

Beckett decided that she didn't want to think about it.

"Your phone was ringing, so I answered. Gina told me to get on your case about the latest Nikki Heat novel. You're behind, apparently."

He winced. "You didn't promise I'd call back or anything… did you?"

"No, but it sounded like she might make a personal appearance on your doorstop if you don't send her the rest of the manuscript by the end of next week."

His grimace deepened. "Looks like today's going to be a work day, after all."

"I'll leave you to it. I'm meeting up with my dad for lunch. He wants to have dinner with the both of us sometime next week, so we should work out a plan."

"Well, we survived through my mother… I can't see how an evening with Jim would even compare to the terror of my mother."

Beckett laughed. "He's looking forward to getting to know you better."

Her cell phone buzzed, and she glanced at it. An unrecognized number flashed on her screen, and she frowned.

"You'll be back in time for dinner, right?" Castle questioned, halfway to his study.

"Yes," she said, hopping from the bar stool. Her phone was still buzzing. He disappeared into the study, and she moved towards the door. She let the call go to voicemail, and then pressed it to her ear when the alert appeared on her screen.

"Detective Beckett, this is Jocelyn Tam," the voice on the recording informed her, and she did a double-take, stopping short in the middle of the hallway. "I understand that you have every reason to not want to talk to me, but if there's any way you can drop by apartment 5A at 23 East 44th Street sometime tonight… I have some information that might interest you. This isn't about getting an inside scoop, or about the articles you've probably seen in the paper… this is about your mother's murder."

She listened the message twice more, just to ensure that she had understood properly. Head spinning, she pocketed her phone and left Castle's building, catching a cab to the restaurant she had planned to meet up with her father at. She would be an hour early, but it would give her time to think about what she had just heard, and decide her next course of action.

All through her afternoon with her father and her dinner with Castle, Martha, and Alexis, her thoughts continued to drift back to that message. Jocelyn Tam was calling her with information. Why? It was clear that, if she was telling the truth, the information had come from her work digging into Beckett's life story. What had she found that she, Castle, and the rest of the team had failed to uncover in the past?

Maybe it was old information; she thought to herself as she rounded a corner on her way back to Castle's apartment, a bag of fruit from the bodega under her arm; something that they had already found. Maybe it was nothing at all and this was just Tam's way of getting her to meet for an exclusive. Either way, she felt drawn to explore deeper, and get the truth.

Someone bumped into her just as she was about to head up to the apartment, and she grimaced in surprise as she looked down at the jagged cut lines on her arm, glancing over her shoulder but only seeing the back of a black hoodie rushing away. Everyone was always in a hurry in this city. And what had cut her, anyways? She shook her head and started the slow climb up the stairs. She was in no rush to get through today. Her thoughts were still a blur.

She warred with herself over whether or not to tell Castle. They were together, now, because she had realized he was more important than solving her mother's murder. To tell him that she was going to follow a possible new lead in the case was a turnaround from all that they were working towards.

But she had to _know_. And once she knew, she would share the information—if it was important—with Castle. They would figure out what to do with it, together. It wouldn't change their relationship or his importance in her life. These things could work in cohesion. She could be with him and still face her mother's case. Just so long as she kept her priorities in the right order.

That was why she slipped out of bed that night, after Castle had fallen off into a deep slumber. She unfolded herself from the sheets and shimmied into her jeans and a t-shirt, tiptoeing her way through the loft and making sure the door didn't squeak behind her as she carefully shut it.

She would be back soon, she convinced herself, and he would never know she was gone. Tam probably had nothing useful, anyways. She was just making sure. That was all.

Doubts plagued her all the way across town and they did not vanish when she exited the taxi and made her way up the stairs in Tam's apartment building. If anything, they multiplied the closer she got to the room.

She should have told Castle. She knew that she should have. But it was too late, now. She was here, and she had left him alone in bed.

The door to Tam's apartment slid open when Beckett rapped her knuckles against it, and she immediately went for a gun that was not on her hip. She still had a personal weapon, but that was locked in a drawer in her apartment. She hadn't taken it with her to Castle's apartment in the transfer of various items, and up until now she had not found herself missing it. Her stance wary, she used her elbow to push the door open the rest of the way and then avoided touching anything directly as she made her way around corners, methodically searching for anything amiss.

No gun and no backup. The worst situation she could find herself in. She felt vulnerable and exposed, and with every step half-expected to hear the click of a gun as it was raised even with her temple.

But that wasn't what happened.

Instead, she moved through a doorway and found Jocelyn Tam lying on the floor of the bedroom, a bullet hole gaping over her heart.

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the wait, guys. Unfortunately this story won't be finished in time for the premiere of the new season. I overestimated the amount of free time I would have this semester. By... a lot. I do promise that this story will be continued and completed sometime soon, however. Thank you all so much for reading!**


	3. Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

**A/N: Sorry for the wait on this one, guys! Title and lyrics are from the Snow Patrol song Somewhere a Clock is Ticking.  
**

**-{ Chapter 3: Somewhere a Clock is Ticking }-**

**I've got this feeling that there's something that I missed  
(I could do most anything to you...)  
Don't you breathe  
Something happened, that I never understood  
You can't leave  
Every second, dripping off my fingertips  
Wage your war  
Another soldier, says he's not afraid to die  
Well I am scared  
In slow motion, the blast is beautiful  
Doors slam shut  
A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away  
Safe and sound**

_June 2__nd__, 2012_

Castle did not ask where she had gone, when he awoke the following morning and found her back in bed beside him. He had stirred into wakefulness the night before in time to see her slipping from the room. Only, she hadn't returned in a few minutes, as he would have expected were she making a trip to the bathroom or for a glass of water.

She said nothing on the matter, but jumped unnaturally when he started up a conversation over the counter while he prepared their coffee. Her eyes were wide, her brow lined with worry, and all of her mannerisms screamed _secret_. She had pulled on a sweatshirt against the morning chill, and it looked baggy and cloaking over her narrow frame.

Something had happened last night, something that she was purposefully choosing to keep from him. Whether or not she planned to tell him eventually remained to be seen. For now, he let her keep whatever it was to herself, ignoring the oddities in her behavior.

He didn't have to wait all that long.

She cleared her throat after he set down the newspaper, and he folded his hands in front of him, focusing on her intently.

"Castle… I did something really… really stupid last night." He said nothing, eyes coaxing her to continue. She took a rattling breath. "Jocelyn Tam left me a message… said she wanted to meet me. I slipped out while you were asleep and went to her apartment. Castle… she was dead."

Whatever ending he had been expecting, this was not it.

"What?" he choked out hoarsely, coughing. "She was _dead?"_

"Who's dead?" Alexis asked, appearing at the base of the staircase. She looked back and forth between them with wide eyes.

"No one," both Beckett and Castle said at once. Alexis gave them a disdainful look and proceeded to march through the kitchen on a quest for cereal. Beckett and Castle stared over the counter at each other, forcibly silenced by his daughter's arrival. Only when she had bounded back up the stairs, cereal bowl in hand, did the two of them begin again.

Neither noticed Alexis take up a seat on the carpeting of the balcony.

"She was _dead?"_ Castle hissed.

"Shot in the heart," Beckett finished with a sharp nod.

"What did you do?"

Beckett looked away uncomfortably. "I left, Castle. That was the _something stupid_ that I did. I fled a _crime scene_."

"Did you leave prints? Were there security cameras?" he demanded.

"No and no," she answered. "But that's not the point…"

"Did you see any cops?"

"…I could hear the sirens, so someone called 911. Probably just before I got there."

"Alright. Then you were never there," Castle reasoned, leaving no room for argument.

Beckett closed her eyes. "What happened to me, Castle? I mean… I still _feel _like a cop, whether I resigned or not. I know better than to flee from a crime scene, no matter what the circumstances."

Castle gave her a doubtful look. "Kate, what were you going to say when the police showed up? 'Hey guys, just holding down the fort. Look what I found; a body!'?"

She pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "I should have dialed it in, even if the police were on their way. I should have let them know I was there, and then stayed to give my statement."

"It wouldn't have helped; you got there and saw the body. What more did you have to tell them?" Beckett frowned, and something clicked into place for Castle. "Why did she want to meet with you so desperately?"

She wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Beckett," he insisted, and she inhaled sharply and then raised her head.

"She found something. Something related to my mother's case," she admitted tightly, her lips pressing together the moment the words were out.

He blinked at her, and for a long moment there was silence. He wasn't sure what to say. All he could think was that she had done the singular thing that could end their relationship. The absolute only thing that could ever get between them… she had known that, and she had still gone through with this. She had followed a lead, late at night, without so much as telling him she was leaving.

What did that say about her? About them?

Upstairs, Alexis slipped unnoticed into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

"You didn't tell me," he said, his voice calm but his gaze dangerous.

Beckett was looking at him pleadingly. "I was going to. But I was… I was afraid it was going to be nothing, and then you would—"

"Afraid?" he cut her off, and she winced.

"No, that's not what I meant."

"It's not? Because it sounds like you were _hoping_ you would find a lead. And _then_ were you going to tell me about it, or were you going to start up your own investigation behind my back?"

"I was going to tell you!" she insisted. "I just didn't want to _lose_ you."

He knew she was telling the truth, but it had little effect against the wall of emotions rising within him.

"You're not going to let this case go. No matter what you say, you're always going to hold onto it. For the rest of your life, no matter how long it takes. And if you solve it, then what? Kate, are you ever going to let it go? _Can_ you?"

"I'm trying," she whispered. "Castle, I'm trying. So _hard_. It eats me from the inside out, though… it's an addiction and I'm just trapped here, in your world, with nothing to keep the urge away. I'm not looking for justice anymore; I'm not representing the victims. And I can't do it; I can't _forget_. After Captain Montgomery, after I was shot? I can't make that go _away_."

"If you try… if you just _try_ harder, you can—"

"I _can't!"_ she burst out. There was a thin sheen of tears building up in her eyes, and she blinked at them. One stray droplet slipped out, hovering on the curve of her cheek. "I can't, Rick."

He swallowed. "Then… what does that mean. For us?"

Her eyes gleamed with panic, and she shook her head rapidly. "I want _you_," she forced out helplessly. "I want you, Castle. More than anything else. But I can't ignore fresh leads when they present themselves. I just… I can't do that. Please, don't ask me to."

He could hear his own heartbeat, thudding heavily in his chest in the following silence.

A conversation he'd had with Alexis not that long ago came to mind. About Stanford, and wanting something badly enough that you were willing to forgive even the deepest of past grievances.

"Okay," he said quietly. A soft gasp slipped from her lips, her face lighting up with barely contained relief. "But… we need some ground rules, if this is ever going to work. And… I'm fairly certain I'm not alone when I say that we both _need_ it to work."

She nodded immediately, a vehemence behind the action.

"If we work this case… we work it _together_. Which means neither of us holding anything back. Even if it might protect the other person." He was referring to his own betrayal, and she knew it. "Second… do you think that Jocelyn Tam's death was related to the case?"

"It's highly probable," she theorized. "She was poking around in my life, and she called me saying she found something. Then, before she can tell me, she's murdered."

"Yeah, there's no way that's a coincidence," she said, standing abruptly and spinning his flat screen around so it faced them in the kitchen. He rescued her case file from his trash bin and then opened a new subfolder and added a note about Tam's connection.

_What did she find?_

Beckett was stared rather fixedly at the screen, and he realized too late that she had never seen this board before.

"In our new spirit of total disclosure… Beckett, I'd like to introduce you to my murder board."

"It's very… in-depth," she commented, coughing slightly. She stood and came to join him, eyes drifting over the information he had gathered. She honed in on the section pertaining to the mysterious man who had been asked by Montgomery to 'keep her safe,' and he stood silently off to the side, letting her drink in the new information.

"Rule three," he said finally, regaining her attention as she straightened up. "We keep each other in check. When either of us gets too deep, we pull that person out. No arguments. There are only bad things down that road; we're staying objective this time around. Or… at least as objective as we _can_ be, given the circumstances." His eyes strayed over the section on Beckett's shooting as he spoke.

Alexis came down the stairs, purse slung over her shoulder and sunglasses perched on top of her head. "I'm going to the mall with Lacey," she said, and Castle and Beckett raised their hands in farewell from across the room before turning their attention back to the murder board.

His mother was out somewhere as well, and with the apartment to themselves Castle moved the flat-screen back into the sitting area and the two of them claimed chairs and spread out the paper files on the table in front of them.

"I think today is going to be a stay-in kind of day, don't you?" Castle asked, glancing at the clock. They had gotten up late; it was nearly noon. "What do you think; Chinese take-out for lunch?"

"I won't argue with that," she said, pulling the phone from its cradle and tossing it to him.

Twenty minutes later, take-out containers sat scattered through the files on the table and the both of them were hunched over stacks of paper. They weren't getting anywhere, but they weren't giving up, either. They had just made the decision to move their focus to the Jocelyn Tam murder when there was a knock on the door, making them both stiffen.

Castle switched the television screen back to normal as he moved towards the door, and Beckett began to gather the files together, shoving papers into stacks. He peered through the peephole, and felt the blood drain from his face. He motioned for Beckett to hide the files, and saw the color drain from her expression as well. She shoved the folders out of site, into the already cluttered magazine rack behind some newspapers, and Castle opened the door.

"NYPD," said the taller of the two men that stood on the doorstop. He was thin and balding slightly. His partner had wide-set shoulders and dark eyes, his nose thick but crooked. "I am Detective Kaplan and this is my partner Detective Rosewood. We understand that we can find Katherine Beckett at this address." He peered narrowly around Castle's frame, focusing on her.

Beckett came forward, moving to stand by Castle's side.

"We have some questions that we'd like to ask you. Down at the station," Rosewood told her gruffly. "If you'll just accompany us to the 15th."

She glanced at Castle, and then curled her lower lip inwards, sucking in a breath.

"Alright," she said heavily.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

They took her down to the station alone, Castle following in one of his cars. Kaplan and Rosewood chatted back and forth on the trip, discussing their upcoming plans for next month's Fourth of July celebration. Rosewood had a family, with two little girls, and he was planning a trip to New England to visit his parents for the holiday. Kaplan was planning to ask their coroner on a date.

Neither of them spoke up about the case they were working, the one that Beckett had found herself involuntarily involved in. Not that she had expected them to, of course. She was a suspect in this situation, not a colleague.

The station was buzzing with activity. Beckett had never been here, herself, but it had a similar look and feel to the 12th. Kaplan and Rosewood motioned for her to head through a door into one of their interrogation rooms, and she gritted herself and stepped over the threshold.

"I can explain," she said, the moment they were all seated. It felt odd, unnatural, to be on the other side of the table. Before today, she had never found herself in a situation where it would be necessary.

Kaplan raised his eyebrows. "Alright. Explain."

Her initial reading of the two of them suggested they were not thrilled to be questioning what they would still consider to be 'one of their own.' Her instincts told her that they would listen, and that they'd be more likely to believe her half of the tale than if she were a complete stranger. She couldn't risk lying; not after she had already so blatantly fled from a crime scene. She wondered what they had found that had given her away. A partial print? A security tape?

"Jocelyn Tam called me yesterday morning and left me a message." She extracted her phone and placed it on the table, playing the message. The detectives listened calmly. "I wasn't sure whether or not I should meet with her, but I eventually decided to go late last night. I left Castle's loft at around midnight, and arrived at Tam's apartment by 12:10 at the latest. When I arrived, the door was ajar, so I stepped in and proceeded through the apartment, looking for signs of intruders. There was no one in the apartment… but Jocelyn Tam was dead on the floor of her bedroom."

"And you didn't call it in?" Rosewood clarified.

She swallowed sharply. "I could hear approaching sirens," she said slowly. "And I finally understood why our suspects make stupid decisions."

Kaplan was nodding slowly. "You decided to leave the scene undisturbed."

"Yes," she said heavily, feeling a shred of relief flickering up inside her.

"Did you have your gun with you?" Rosewood questioned, and she shook her head.

"No."

"You entered the apartment without a weapon, knowing there may be an intruder present?"

"I went to Tam's unarmed, and I couldn't leave after finding the door open. Not without looking to see if everything was okay."

"Alright, Beckett," Kaplan said, cutting off whatever Rosewood had been about to say. "Montgomery was a good friend, and he put you in the highest regard. I'm not condoning your choices… but for now, I'm willing to accept your explanation. We'll be in touch, though, if anything else comes up."

"It won't," she promised. "I was there for less than a minute, and she was dead when I arrived." She hesitated a moment, and then cleared her throat. "Can I ask… how did you know I was there?"

"Someone on the street saw you leave the building. Recognized you from the articles. When they saw the news about the murder, they called in the tip."

Wonderful, she thought. Someone on the street.

"Thank you, detectives."

They stood, holding out hands to shake hers.

"Never thought it could be you," Kaplan confided as they exited the interrogation room.

"Kate!" Castle called the moment she appeared, looking harried. His eyes were wide and his expression almost childishly fearful. She stepped into his embrace, realizing in a rush that she needed to be in his arms probably as much as he needed her to be there.

"It's okay," she told him firmly. "They just had a few questions; we can go home."

She felt his shuddering sigh of relief rattle his frame, and then he let her go and stepped back. Beckett twined her fingers with his, and led the way out of the precinct.

The ride home was a mostly quiet affair.

"What did you tell them?" he asked carefully, breaking the heavy silence.

"I told them the truth. That she called me, that I went to see her late last night, and that she was dead when I arrived."

"And they believed you?"

"Yes. They said they'll be following up, obviously, but there's nothing else connecting me to the murder. There's nothing to worry about."

"Except… whoever killed Tam is connected to your mother's case. Did you tell them _that?"_

"I played the voicemail that Tam left for me, so they know that the reason I went to see Tam was because she claimed to have information. Whether she actually did, though, remains to be seen."

"You still think there's a chance there's no connection?"

"I'm hoping," Beckett corrected, shaking her head. "But… I honestly have no idea."

~LxExLxExLxE~

"There you are," Lanie Parish sighed, glancing up from the tox screens she had been analyzing. "About _time_."

"What's so important?" Esposito asked, glancing around. They were alone in the morgue, thankfully. Lanie pushed herself off of the stool and motioned for him to follow her across the room. She opened one of the freezers and hauled out the body tray. Esposito's face darkened with expectation.

Lanie pulled back the cloth, and he frowned.

"Who's that?" he asked, confusion crinkling his brow.

"_She_ is Jocelyn Tam. Reporter."

Recognition lit up in the detective's eyes. "Jocelyn Tam… the reporter that's been shoving our girl Beckett under the microscope?"

"The one and only," Lanie said with a nod, gently fixing the sheet over the body and sliding it back into place. The door shut firmly.

"…She's _dead?"_ Esposito exclaimed, waving a hand in the direction of the freezer as Lanie paced back across the room to her station. He followed with rapid strides. "What happened to her?" he demanded.

"I've looked over the report, but it is _not_ my case. I want that made clear, Javier." She sat back down with a huff, folding her hands in her lap and meeting his eyes seriously. "She was shot in the heart. They're running ballistics on the bullet, now."

"Who the hell would want her dead?"

Lanie raised an eyebrow, and his face hardened.

"You aren't suggesting…"

"No, _I'm_ not. But I'm saying that that's what it's going to _look_ like. The detectives were talking when they were down here. A witness saw her leaving the crime scene last night… right before the police arrived. They're bringing her in for questioning."

Esposito was already shaking his head. "No. There's no way. Not Beckett."

"I agree," Lanie said calmly. The harsh lines of Esposito's face suggesting that smoke might start pouring from his ears at any moment. His eyes were dark and narrowed, his nostrils flaring at the edges.

Lanie didn't think that Beckett could be involved; not for a second. But this looked _bad,_ in many ways. If anyone could help her friend, it would be Esposito. And Ryan. If the two of them could bother to see eye-to-eye for a while.

"Don't go getting yourself into trouble," she said, poking a finger at him. "I'm telling you this because I think you should know. And because I knew you would be on her team. I am _not_ telling you this, _Javier Esposito_, so that you can interfere with someone else's investigation and go off getting yourself suspended on a _permanent _basis. That's not going to help _anyone_."

He ground his teeth.

"I'm going to call her," he said tightly.

"Maybe you should—" the door swung shut behind him, and she sighed. "…talk to Ryan," she finished for nobody in particular.

She looked around at the silent morgue. Alexis Castle had finished her internship two weeks ago, and suddenly Lanie found herself irrevocably grateful for that fact. At first she had missed the company of the level-headed red-head, so different and calculating in comparison to her wildly creative father. She had been excellent company in this dark place. It was better, though, that she not be involved during this investigation.

Beckett and Castle were just starting out, and Lanie prayed helplessly that this would not be the thing that would break them.

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

Beckett's cell rang, as they were stepping from the elevator and re-entering the loft.

"Beckett," she answered, and Castle recognized Esposito's voice murmuring rapidly to her. He watched as she closed her eyes, taking a steadying breath.

"I'm fine," she assured. "I'm back at… I'm home. They just had some questions." A pause. "Detective Kaplan and Detective Rosewood. No, they believed my side of the story." A sigh. "It's… a _long_ story, Espo. No, tell Lanie not to get involved. And you shouldn't, either. Everything is fine."

There was a long pause filled with the faint buzzing of Esposito's voice.

"Thanks," Beckett said finally. "I will. Yes."

She hung up, glancing at him. "The body is in the morgue. Lanie told Esposito," she added quietly, on a mutter.

"I figured as much," he said with a half-hearted nod. "Any new information?"

"No," she huffed. "They know less than we do. Lanie said that ballistics is going to start working on the bullet shortly."

"Good. That should be all the proof that Rosewood and Kaplan need to start looking for the real killer."

Beckett nodded. "Hopefully. Meanwhile…" she clicked the television on, and they settled back into their seats, putting aside the now-cold takeout containers.

"Hold on," Castle said, fishing for the remote among the pillows and rooting it out. He tapped the channel button, bringing them away from his investigation page and back to the actual television stations. The news was on, and he let the remote drop into his lap as they both listened.

A reporter with curly blonde hair stood with a microphone in front of Jocelyn Tam's apartment building, talking about the murder.

"Initial reports suggest that Tam was shot and killed at around midnight last night. First on News 5, we have received an anonymous tip that former NYPD detective Kate Beckett, the inspiration for Richard Castle's fictional 'Nikki Heat' character, was brought in for questioning after she was seen leaving the scene of the crime shortly before the police arrived. The following is footage shot outside the NYPD's 15th Precinct."

Beckett groaned, slumping back in her chair as the screen switched to video of her walking into the station behind Detectives Kaplan and Rosewood.

"The NYPD has not released any comment other than to say that they are looking into several leads but have no solid suspects as of yet. Back to you, Holly."

The camera blinked back to a news desk with two familiar reporters, and Castle raised the remote and returned them to the murder board.

"The press is going to have a field day," she muttered.

"Maybe for a few days," Castle admitted begrudgingly. "But… once they catch the real killer, you won't have to worry about it. Things will go back to the way they were."

"Hm," she murmured noncommittally.

Her phone buzzed, rattling a few inches across the surface of the table.

"Beckett," she said warily. The tensed muscles in her face relaxed as soon as the other voice spoke. "Ryan. Hi… yes, I'm fine. Yes, I'm… I'm with Castle. No, we don't know. They just had a few questions. Rosewood and Kaplan. Thanks. Just be careful. And talk to Esp—okay. _Okay_." A long pause, now. "I will. Talk to you soon."

Castle cleared his throat as she set the phone back down. "Still not speaking to each other, are they?"

She shook her head, scowling. "Hopefully Lanie can talk some sense into them. Or they'll figure out some 'guy' way to make it up to each other."

"Hey, they're not mad at me, too, are they? I wasn't informed."

"As far as I know, neither of them have any issue with what you did. I sort of told them you were 'off the case.' I never gave details about what… happened between you and me."

"Probably for the best," Castle agreed, raising an eyebrow. She nodded.

He picked up a file, shuffling through it. "So, what are Esposito and Ryan working on?"

"They're following the developments in the Tam case. Separately, of course. And under the radar. I'm not sure how good of an idea that is, with Gates on the watch… but it's not as if they're interfering with another team's case. They're just paying very… _close_ attention."

"So they can get in trouble with Gates, but not any higher up," Castle reasoned.

"Exactly," she said, her frown not quite leaving the corners of her lips.

"Maybe if Ryan gets caught that will even things out with Esposito," Castle put in thoughtfully, tipping his head to the side.

Beckett shot him a doubtful look. "Let's not go _rooting_ for that, Castle."

He raised his hands in mock surrender, and she turned away. He watched the corner of her lips turn up in an amused smile.

"Let's get away," Castle said suddenly, and her head snapped back around again, that inquisitive line appearing between her brows.

"What?" she asked in confusion.

"Let's get away," he repeated. "We'll go to the Hamptons tonight: take a vacation from reality. No case, no reporters, no worries. Hakuna Matata. Just you and me. We'll make dinner and… keep ourselves entertained."

"Get around to exploring the rest of the house?" Beckett added with a mischievous grin.

"Something like that," he said, leaning forward to close more of the distance between the two fo them. "What do you say?"

"I think… that sounds like an excellent plan."

He left her to the packing and gave his mother and daughter both a call to let them know where he was going. His mother did not answer, allowing him to leave a quick message, but Alexis picked up on the second ring.

"Dad, I was just about to call you; I've tried the house a bunch and no one was answering. I saw a television in the food court; what's going on? Did something happen with Beckett?"

"Everything is fine. Just… ignore anything you see. The press has a wilder imagination than even me. Beckett and I are taking the rest of the weekend off and heading to the Hamptons. I'll see you and Gram when we get back on Sunday."

"…Alright," Alexis said slowly. The suspicion was dripping from her tone. "You're _sure_ everything is okay?"

"It's fine," he assured, with a false sense of cheerfulness. I'll see you Sunday."

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

_June 3__rd__, 2012_

"We could just never go back," Castle whispered in her ear, his breath stirring the fine, peach-fuzz hairs along the line of her jawbone. "Alexis and my mother could visit… we could go down by the beach, every day, and set up our chairs. Watch the waves… talk…"

Beckett closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling of him, pressed against her every curve. She could feel his breath, hear his heartbeat. He was a curl of warmth in the cool sheets, a puzzle piece that only she could match this perfectly.

What he proposed was a fantasy; a perfect world in which neither of them had any responsibilities. A world in which the city did not exist, and could not encroach on their time together. As much as she wished to pack up her old life and take up residence here, in the nooks and crannies of his life in the Hamptons, she knew that it simply wasn't possible.

"We'd be bored in a week," she mumbled into her pillow.

Pale, morning light streamed through the curtains, and as a sea breeze wafted through the window, a sliver of the warm glow slipped across her face. She sighed, raising herself onto her elbow and rolling over to face him. She tucked the red sheet around herself, allowing just her bare legs to remain free of the constraints. He, too, propped himself up on an elbow, matching her. His smile was easy, but his eyes reflected sadness.

"Like you said," she assured, placing a hand tentatively on his chest—first just fingertips and then gradually flattening out her palm—"It will blow over soon. And when they solve this case… it will all be over and back to normal."

He placed a finger over her lips, silencing her.

"What case? There is no case," he chided, and she laughed, pulling away from his hand.

"Fine, fine. No case, no responsibilities. For the next…" she glanced over his broad-shouldered frame and located the clock on the nightstand. "Five hours."

He scowled, but it gave way to a playful grin as he rolled them both over, pinning her beneath him. She grinned up at him. "You do realize that I could very easily toss you across the room?"

"But you won't," he hissed into her ear, latching his teeth on her earlobe and tugging gently. She gasped, eyes fluttering closed. He was right. _She wouldn't_.

His attentions slipped lower, fingers nimbly folding away the thin sheet that covered her upper body. Her bare skin gleamed copper in the pool of flame-red sheets set ablaze by sunlight, and goose bumps traced up her arms in the wake left by the pads of his fingers as they trailed lazy patterns. He was intent on memorizing every inch of her, something he had made clear over the course of their new relationship.

Sometimes she would wonder what this new _research_ would do to affect her character and his. And sometimes, she just didn't think about much of anything at all.

She arched into his touch, sighing contentedly at his gentle ministrations at one moment and then gasping at his boldness the next. Every day with Castle was a new adventure. As his tongue dipped into her belly button, she groaned softly, the sound slipping smoothly from her lips just before she forced her eyes open and wriggled herself down so they were face to face again, claiming his lips and tasting the pure flavor that was untainted _Castle_.

Flipping them over, she purred into his ear just a few words that made a shiver wrack through his bulky frame.

She was going to make him say 'apples' today. Before they left to return to their fragmented lives in the city. Even if it took up all of their remaining five hours.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

Beckett pictured the precinct, the bullpen bustling with activity and the murder board fleshed out with photographs and time tables. Castle was leaned against the passenger window of the car, eyes closed and breathing steady, and she had been driving with silence as her sole company for the last half hour.

They were closing in on the city, and had hit traffic a few minutes ago. Since then, they had been at a stop and go rate. She was starting to become familiar with the cars around them. There was the heavyset woman wearing pink, with her white-as-snow hair and her bobble-head cats in the rear window. Then there was the mother with her three kids, who looked like she hadn't had a good night's rest in months. Currently, the car beside Beckett's window was occupied by a bulky man with tattoos. She could hear the muted classical music wafting from his cracked windows.

She missed the 12th. Spending all of this time with Castle and knowing where they stood… it was a marvelous feeling. It was exciting and powerful and it continuously swept her up when she let herself focus on the fact that this was all _real_. None of that stopped her from longing for what she had left behind, though. She should be working the Tam case, not waiting for a phone call to tell her _oh, you're not a suspect anymore, have a nice day_.

Things had become so simple on this half of her life, with her and Castle and nothing in between, and so complicated on the other half. She hated the trade-off, wishing for a way to make them both even. She wanted to be content. To not have this longing dividing her happiness and leaving her with doubts.

Mostly, she wanted to not have the nagging whispers swirling through her brain, asking over and over again: _What did Jocelyn Tam want to tell you?_

Castle looked so peaceful, his body still against the window, the steady rise and fall of his breathing making a slight whistling noise to break the silence. Every now and then, it fell in rhythm with the thrum of music from a neighboring car in traffic.

She thought of his latest novel. _Frozen Heat_, he was calling it. She was not expressly allowed to read it, but once in a while over the last month he had read bits of it aloud to her, to get a feeling for her reaction and ask her opinion on a character's behavior. It made their evenings interesting, and allowed them a window back into the world that they had both been removed from. For a while, they could be Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook. They could pretend.

Coming back into the city, now, Beckett knew that she was going to have to face the future. There was no more hiding from it. She would meet with Gates and talk about what she would need to do in order to regain her position in the NYPD. Once she was reinstated, she would settle for discussing cases with Castle outside of the job until she felt Gates had cooled enough to start bringing him back around the station.

Honestly, she had no idea how Gates truly felt about Castle. He was not her favorite person, by any means. But he was instrumental in solving cases, and even Gates had been forced to begrudgingly admit that on occasion. Beckett wasn't going to hold out hope that things could return to the way they were; she was not looking for disappointment. She was keeping all of her opportunities within sight, though, and not giving up on them.

Castle stirred slightly, head lolling against the window. She smiled, expression softening and her fingers relaxing their grip on the steering wheel. Traffic slid to a halt again.

He was everything. Even if she didn't get her job back, they would find a way to make things work. They could move across the country. They could move to Europe. They could do anything they wanted to do, and they could be together every second for the rest of forever. The possibilities were endless, and that was wonderful to just stop for a second and think about.

She was going to tell him that she loved him. The next chance she got, she was going to say the words out loud. And she was going to mean them more than she had ever meant them before in her life.

~GxGxGxGxGxG~

Captain Victoria Gates had known that she was not taking an easy job when she had accepted the position at the 12th precinct. It was no normal opening, after all. She was replacing a fallen hero, a Captain who had fallen to save his own team. She had never expected anyone to like her, and nor had she wanted them to.

She was efficient and abrasive. She did not apologize and she did not make excuses. She took responsibility for these people who worked under her, and she took it very personally when they did not respect their positions.

In inheriting Montgomery's position, she had inherited Detective Kate Beckett, who she had decided to reserve judgment on in those first months while she waited on their first encounter. Time and time again she heard good things. Great things, even. Beckett was supposed to be a hero cop. A woman on a mission, who never backed down. She had a fire, a passion for the job that was hard to find nowadays. She burned for justice, for answers. That could be as good as it could be dangerous.

Captain Gates liked Detective Beckett. This was not an opinion she shared with anyone, but one that she kept to herself. In her humble opinion, the NYPD would do good to have more Kate Beckett's in the mix. The recklessness was a risk, of course—and that Richard Castle that followed her around was a liability and a lawsuit waiting to happen, all rolled into one—but Beckett had a knack. It was a rare gift, and one that she was not going to get over losing anytime soon.

Working in Internal Affairs, she had gotten a feel for cops. For what made them _tick_. Every ounce of Detective Beckett's fuel was built up on her emotions over her mother's murder. On a normal case, she kept it in check. She stoked the fire and burned the fuel and she got things done. Gates should have realized sooner what would inevitably happen when her mother's murder hit a breakthrough.

Beckett had been a time bomb waiting to go off. The moment Gates had made it clear that she would not be working any case that would ruin her objectivity she should have recognized that she was promoting deception. Of course when that team of hers found a lead they would close up ranks and stick to their loyalty. She had hardly felt like she was running the precinct anymore; Beckett was pulling all the strings with Esposito and company in tow.

She did not regret putting those two on suspension.

What she _did_ regret was the fallout.

Standing stonily in her office, arms crossed and legs spaced apart, glaring into the bullpen, she watched the buzz of activity and felt a disconnect. There was a rebellion brewing, just under the surface. She had halted all activity on the Johanna Beckett case, and informed her precinct that anyone found researching it, or any of the related cases—Beckett's own shooting or Montgomery's death, for example—would be terminated immediately.

There had been muttering. There had been hardened eyes and crossed arms. There had been talk that Beckett had had the right idea in resigning. Officer Hastings had said that what happened to Beckett could happen to any of them, and that Beckett deserved justice, not radio silence.

With Detective Esposito's return, the murmurs that had fallen away after the first two weeks had been brought back to a full-on buzzing. The bullpen was like a beehive that only she could tame. Her mere presence imposed instant silence and preoccupied shuffling of papers. When her door opened, the place became a well-behaved office. Silent and focused.

Esposito was the only one that would meet her eyes when she stood like this, staring out. He would glance up from his computer and find her gaze. His resolve was hardened. He was not going to give up on this case, no matter what she did.

Firing him at this point was not going to help matters, and it certainly wasn't going to raise morale in the precinct.

What she really needed was for Detective Beckett to return. Esposito was on a blind run, still angry and betrayed. Beckett, while fiery and misguided, was more reasonable. Her request for a meeting had given Gates an opportunity. Not to welcome back the detective with open arms; that was not the answer and certainly not in Gates' personality… but rather, an opportunity to open a window. If Beckett was looking to return, then Gates would test and see just how far Beckett was willing to go to regain her position. And when she eventually did, she would be reformed. No more behind-the-scenes, no more secrets.

For once, Gates would be in charge of the precinct.

Most importantly, there would be no Castle.

There was a knock on her office door, and she turned in surprise. Doctor Lanie Parish stood there, a decidedly panicked expression struggling to hide behind her pursed lips.

There was no situation in which this could be news that Gates wanted to hear.

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

"Beckett," greeted Detective Rosewood. He pushed himself away from the wall where he'd been leaning his shoulder. Kaplan stepped forward from the other side of Castle's apartment door.

"Glad you could join us." He nodded to Castle. "Your _mother_ told us you were in the Hamptons. That's nice, you know, that she lives with you."

Castle gritted his teeth. "What are you doing here?"

"Official business," Kaplan said.

"In my hallway?"

Beckett touched his shoulder, hoping he'd take the hint to stay calm. They probably just had a few more questions. Probably. There was no need for Castle to go and get himself in trouble. The last thing she needed was to have him brought in for some minor charge. Or worse, for punching one of them.

"Your mother wouldn't let us in," Rosewood said simply. He unhooked a pair of handcuffs from his belt, meeting Beckett's eyes with a genuine sadness. "I'm sorry."

She stood frozen by Castle's side, the both of them clutching their bags. A chill was running down her spine, poisoning her veins.

"What?" she asked, watching the hallway tilt.

Rosewood shook his head. "We ran ballistics on the bullet, Beckett. It came back to a .32 that was registered to… you."

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. "That… that doesn't make sense."

"It doesn't matter if it makes sense," Kaplan said gruffly, plucking the cuffs from his partner's hand and coming towards her. "Katherine Beckett, you are under arrest for the murder of Jocelyn Tam. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney…"

She zoned out his words, turning automatically when he put a hand on her shoulder. The cold metal clasped like an iron fist around her wrists. Castle was staring dumbly, at a loss for words. Slowly, his head shook back and forth.

Kaplan put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a push away from the apartment, guiding her back to the elevator and away from her sanctuary. Away from Castle.

**If you're out there reading this, just drop me a line! A quick comment is all I'm asking for. Just give me some indication that you're reading. Thanks!**


	4. Eyes Open

**A/N: Hey guys, did you miss me? Things got a little crazy this semester and unfortunately my writing got sacrificed in the process. I am happy to announce that I am officially finished with my finals, though, and there is a great deal of free time in my future. I hope to have the next chapter up soon, and I will truly try to avoid making you guys wait another two months. I feel awful.  
**

**Chapter opening is Eyes Open by Taylor Swift.  
**

**-{ Chapter 4: Eyes Open }-**

**Everybody's waiting for you to breakdown  
Everybody's watching to see the fallout  
Even when you're sleeping, sleeping  
Keep your eyes open  
Keep your eyes open  
**

**Keep your feet ready  
Heartbeat steady  
Keep your eyes open  
Keep your aim locked  
The night goes dark  
Keep your eyes open**

_June 3__rd__, 2012_

Beckett was not used to being on the wrong side of the interrogation table, but that was something she could adjust to. As a cop, she had learned interrogation methods by role-playing both sides of the situation. She knew how to question and how to answer. She knew all the tricks. What she did not know… was how it felt to go through the booking process.

Countless times, she had sent criminals into the system and stood by, arms crossed, to watch them get their mug-shots snapped and their fingerprints taken. The process could take as long as several hours. For her, it took one hour and twelve minutes.

Seventy-two minutes of her life were spent in handcuffs, answering questions about her personal information while paperwork was filled out. She asked to see Castle, but was denied. She would get her one phone call after the booking process and after they were through with their interrogation. Then she would be placed in holding for the night, awaiting a hearing with a judge. Internal Affairs was sniffing around, watching the investigation. Reviewing her record. It apparently did not matter that she had resigned almost a month ago.

She felt exposed and vulnerable, handcuffs jingling around her wrists, heart pounding. They swabbed the scratches on her forearm, the ones she had gotten the other morning pushing through the sidewalk crowd. Her fingers shook uncontrollably before they handed her the sign with her name and her booking number. She pictured herself: hair askew, makeup almost non-existent, eyes glassy. She faced the camera and swallowed, blinking against the harsh flash.

"Turn to the right," droned the man behind the camera.

Where was Castle right now? she wondered. Was he pacing the bullpen, or had they escorted him out of the precinct an hour ago and told him to wait on a call? Was he panicking? Probably; it was in his nature to panic. He must be worried.

Hell, she was worried, and she knew that she hadn't done what they were saying she had done. Castle was just taking her word for it, trusting that what she had told him was the absolute truth.

She still didn't fully understand what was happening. They said that her gun had been a match to the bullet that had killed Jocelyn Tam, but she knew that was impossible. That gun was locked up tight in her apartment. She hadn't even touched it in months. There was no way those bullets could match; someone must have messed with the results, or gotten access to a slug from one of her trips to the firing range…

The possibilities swum sickeningly before her, and she closed her eyes in the aftermath of another camera flash, feeling a hitch in her throat. All of this didn't seem quite real, but it was no dream. She was under arrest. For _murder_. And there was nothing she could do about it.

Eventually she was shuffled into an interrogation room and offered a seat, and then she was alone, left to ponder her fate. The Kate Beckett in the mirror to her right stared at her with haunted eyes. The lines on her face would suggest ten years of aging, and her clothing was wrinkled. She wriggled her shoulders, attempting to straighten out the line of buttons down her blouse, but they remained stubbornly crooked across her midriff.

This morning felt like a lifetime ago. Had she really been in bed, in the Hamptons, with Castle? Could that truly have been her life only seven hours ago?

Where had things gone so wrong?

She waited in the lonely room for a long time, fully aware of the tactic being used against her. There was no clock in here, and no way to track the passing of time. Being left alone with only her thoughts was an attempt to loosen her up. Make her more eager to spill her guts the moment anyone at all appeared in that doorway.

She could have saved them the time and the trouble. She wasn't confessing, no matter how long they made her wait, because she hadn't done anything. Anything besides flee the crime scene, that was. But they already knew about that. Now they were just stalling.

When the door did eventually open, just as Beckett was contemplating how possible it would be for her to catch a nap, Rosewood was the one who stepped through. He was accompanied by a stout woman with shoulder-length dark red hair and deep-set wrinkles. She was wearing a black skirt and a blazer and carrying a briefcase.

"Ms. Beckett, my name is Karina Ross. I have been retained as your defense lawyer. At this time I advise you to say nothing to these detectives until we have had a chance to talk in private."

Beckett blinked in the face of Karina Ross's abrupt announcement.

She should have expected that Castle would be working on something like this while she was being booked. Why the thought hadn't crossed her mind she wasn't sure.

"I'm invoking attorney-client privilege," Ross added to Detective Kaplan, arching an eyebrow deliberately.

He scowled back, thick eyebrows drawn into a furry line across his brow. And then he shut the door and closed Beckett in with her new lawyer. A moment later the lights dimmed and the observation room became visible through the two-way mirror. An empty box.

Karina Ross pulled out one of the abandoned chairs across from Beckett and settled into it, crossing her legs and folding her hands together on the table.

"So," she said, "Why don't you get us started?"

"Someone's trying to frame me," Beckett burst without preamble. Ross nodded along with the agreeing mentality of a therapist. It had never crossed her mind to disagree with Beckett, even before the words had left her mouth. Beckett wasn't sure if she liked that quality, but she was grateful enough for the support that she did not care. Someone was listening and taking her side, and for the moment that was all that she truly needed.

Besides Castle.

Castle being right here, in this room, was the only thing that could make all of this go away. But he wasn't, and so she settled for the messenger, the _aid_, that he had sent in his place.

"They stole my gun from my apartment," she added. "I haven't been there much recently… I didn't know it was gone."

"So you didn't file a report," Ross concluded, snapping open her briefcase and extracting a notepad.

Beckett nodded, lips pursed.

"Does your building have security cameras?"

"Only in the lobby."

"Well it's something…" Ross murmured, scribbling something down on the notepad. "I'll get started on a warrant for access to that footage. Can you think of anyone in particular that would have reason to frame you?"

Beckett could name dozens, but she knew who belonged on the top of her list. And she knew that most of the details were not open for discussion with a stranger like Karina Ross. Attorney-client privilege be damned, Beckett trusted no one outside of her immediate family at the 12th precinct.

But she could give a name.

"He goes by Cole Maddox," she admitted heavily. "He has tried to kill me… several times now."

Ross's eyebrows were up to her hairline but she said nothing, her pen running a marathon across the page.

"Why would he be trying to frame you?"

Beckett chewed on her lower lip, considering her options.

"There's… an investigation. I got too close to an answer and… someone sent him to kill me."

Ross continued to nod, eyes glued to the page in front of her.

"What is the nature of this investigation?"

Beckett shifted uncomfortably in the stiff chair. "My mother's murder," she admitted

For the first time, Ross's eyes snapped up from her notes. "Oh. Well then." She cleared her throat. "Right. That changes things. We'll go into the details later; let's focus on the past few days. You resigned from the precinct on… May 8th, correct?"

She nodded.

"And then you began a romantic relationship with Mr. Castle?"

There was really no use denying, at this phase. "Yes."

"On June 1st," Ross continued, pulling a few papers from a folder in her briefcase and squinting at them. "You were spotted leaving the apartment of Jocelyn Tam, where moments later the authorities found her dead body." She dropped the paper, raising her eyebrows at Beckett over the top of her glasses.

Beckett swallowed. "I found the body."

"These reports say you have already admitted to fleeing the crime scene."

Not her wisest decision, in hindsight. "There was an eye witness, and I explained myself to the detectives when they questioned me the first time."

"They believed you, then."

"Yes."

"But not anymore," Ross added tiredly, shuffling the papers back into a neat stack. "I'm going to be honest; your case does not look promising." Beckett's heart thumped painfully in her throat. "You put yourself at the crime scene, fleeing without calling the authorities. Jocelyn Tam was personally attacking you, providing motive. She was shot and killed with a gun that you own, which you never reported stolen."

She was right; it didn't look promising.

"You have no alibi, because you were at the crime scene. No foreign fingerprints were found at the scene, and the gun has yet to be located. At your _apartment_…" she flipped through the report and tapped a particularly long paragraph. "Detectives found a collection of newspaper clippings from Tam's articles on you and Mr. Castle."

"I haven't been back there in at least a week," Beckett insisted.

"And the security footage from your lobby should prove that. We have something, at least. They'll be holding you for a few more hours before they transfer you pending a bail hearing. I'm working on arrangements for that, now, and I assume Mr. Castle will be happy to cover any costs it may present."

Beckett nodded along numbly. Holding. Transfer. Bail.

Reality seemed impossibly _wrong_ all of a sudden.

"When can I see Castle?" she asked with a sudden surge of desperation.

"He will be able to visit you in holding," Ross reassured.

"Is he… is he still here?"

Ross gave her a gentle smile and reached across to pat her hand. "Of course he is." She got to her feet, snapping the briefcase shut. "I'm going to work out the details for your hearing, and I will see you then. After that, we'll start talking about strategies. It's possible that we can work out a deal."

Beckett's head spun, and she just nodded along, shivering in the cold that slipped into the room after the lawyer's departure.

A deal.

What if that was what this came down to? Not _getting justice and proving her innocence, _but rather _how little time could she get behind bars?_

Detective Kaplan pushed the door open, and she blinked as the lights snapped back to full strength. "Let's go, Beckett," he said coolly, and held her by the upper arm as he guided her from the interrogation room.

"Kate!" Castle's voice cried the moment she stepped over the threshold. She searched the crowded room for him, finally locating him beside Rosewood. The detective held out a warning hand, which Castle seemed on the verge of full-out ignoring.

She ducked her head and submitted to Kaplan's push as he moved them down a narrow hallway. The holding cells were much like those in the 12th; dank, dark, and surrounded completely by thick metal bars. A bench lined one side, and a toilet sat in the far corner.

Kaplan unlocked the door, his keys jingling, and then raised an eyebrow at her until she sighed and stepped forward. The door clanged resoundingly, and Kaplan twisted his key from the lock. He was expressionless as he stared through the bars at her, meeting her defiant expression. And then he turned and walked away.

She couldn't help but notice the sag of his shoulders, the small shake of his head. A moment later she was completely alone and wondering if she had imagined the sadness weighing in the frown lines around his eyes.

A moment too late, she realized that she had not gotten her phone call. Castle was already here and she had a lawyer… but ideally she should call her father and tell him what was happening. In the brief conversations they had shared over the past month, she had told him of her new relationship with Castle and dissuaded his concerns about the articles that painted her in such a negative light. With all that had been happening since she had found Tam's body, she had not thought to pick up the phone and fill him in on the details. Undoubtedly, he had now heard the news via a third party, something she would have greatly preferred to avoid.

She wondered if he had tried to call her, and thought of her cell phone locked away with her personal effects.

When the door opened a moment later, she had the question—the _demand_—already formulated. She opened her mouth and then snapped it shut again, on her feet at once and standing by the bars. Castle stopped abruptly in front of her, just staring at her for a long moment before he held up a hand. She pressed her palm flat to his through the bars, feeling the warmth of his flesh on hers and craving more. She wove her fingers through his, clutching him to her. The silence seemed to cloak them, their eyes trapped by each other's gazes.

Castle cleared his throat. "They told me that… the earliest opening for your bail hearing would be tomorrow morning. Your lawyer is working on it."

She nodded, swallowing to ward off the tightness clutching in her throat.

His head tipped to the side, his eyes suddenly imploring. "You're going to get out of here," he rasped, his voice betraying his heart. His head shook back and forth slowly. "I promise, Kate…"

She clutched his hand vehemently. "I hope so," she managed quietly. Her eyes were giving her away, and she knew it. He searched her expression, and then pulled his hand away and let it drop back by his side.

"I'm going to the 12th," he informed her. "Esposito… Ryan… they'll help. We'll find _something_. We'll prove that you _couldn't_ have done this."

She opened her mouth but then let it slip shut again. Logic told her not to let him get his hopes up. But fear buried her in silence. She wanted to hope with him—wanted to believe that this nightmare still had a happily-ever-after stamped on the last page.

"Okay," she said abruptly, nodding. "Okay."

"Do you… do you need anything?" he asked helplessly, eyes sweeping over the empty cell she was inhabiting.

She shook her head. "No. And… besides, they're moving me tonight."

His expression darkened. "Where?"

"Probably a minimum security facility."

"Kate…"

"I'm fine, Castle. I'm… I'm _fine_. Go talk to Ryan and Esposito and… for goodness sake don't get them in any more trouble with Gates."

"I'll be… subtle."

That provoked a smile. When had Castle ever been _subtle?_

He hesitated, his lips opening and closing but no words coming out. Finally he took a pace back, away from the bars. "I'll see you soon," he promised, his words ringing with something beyond honesty. Passion. Faith.

"Castle?" she called, her face pressed to the bars suddenly as she was seized with the reality of him walking away and her, trapped in this place so far from him.

"Yeah?" he asked, stopping in his tracks and turning back to face her directly.

Her heart pounded unsteadily in her chest, burning heat and freezing cold warring in her limbs. Her fingers shook, her throat constricting.

"I love you," she choked out with a helplessness deeper than any emotion she had felt before. It surged within her: a raging ocean, a blazing wildfire.

It took him only three long strides to return to her, his face only inches from hers. If it weren't for the bars, she thought morosely.

Lifting one hand, he reached through the bars and cupped the side of her face, his fingers threading through her hair. The pad of his thumb stroked along her cheekbone.

"I love you, too," he said seriously, his eyes clear and blue, piercing her with his seriousness. "We're going to get through this," he added encouragingly. "And you and me… we're gonna make it, Kate."

She nodded. She couldn't afford to let logic get in the way; her heart wasn't going to let her argue. She wanted to believe him; _needed_ to believe him.

He turned away again, and this time she let him go without another word, the warm shadow of his touch still burning into her skin.

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

Ryan and Esposito were on their feet as soon as Castle appeared in the bullpen. Esposito shot a dark look in his partner's direction, crossing his arms.

"Where's Beckett?" they inquired in tandem, glancing at each frostily and shuffling so that there was another yard between them.

Castle opened his mouth to point out how Lanie hadn't been exaggerating to Beckett about the two of them, but then he abruptly changed his mind, clearing his throat. "They're holding her at the 19th," he announced somberly.

"Holding her?" demanded Esposito, at the same time as Ryan questioned, "Did they arrest her?"

"They're, uh, charging her with murder," Castle said, glancing uncertainly between the two detectives. Esposito's eyes had darkened, nostrils flaring, and Ryan had set his jaw and was glaring at the floor as though it had personally offended him.

"Fuck," Esposito hissed, slamming his fist into the side of the desk and then grimacing as he shook out his fingers.

"Oh for _goodness_ sake!" Lanie griped, appearing suddenly beside Castle. She glared menacingly at Esposito, who moved his gaze elsewhere, muttering under his breath and rubbing his hand. She put her hands on her hips and turned her stare on Castle, her gaze losing the hard edges. "How is she?" she murmured.

He shook his head. "They've got her in holding, but she said they'd probably transfer her before… before the hearing."

Lanie's eyebrows drew into one thin line, her frown crinkling the middle. "I meant… how's she holding up?"

"Oh." He coughed shortly. "She's… okay. For now." He turned his imploring gaze on Ryan and Esposito. "We have to find something. Anything. We have to _prove_ that she didn't do this."

All three of them nodded around him.

"And we have to keep this from Gates," Castle added, his eyes flicking involuntarily towards Ryan. Esposito was standing stiff, arms crossed, and now his chin jutted out. Lanie gave a little huff of a sigh, and Ryan scuffed his shoes on the tile.

"Of course," Esposito said. "Anybody here _not_ cool with that idea can get the hell out."

Ryan didn't move.

"Alright, good," Castle said.

"Where do we start?" Ryan blurted. He was jittery on his feet, bouncing on his heels and shifting his weight. He kept looking back and forth between Castle and Lanie, avoiding Esposito.

"The bullet found in the victim was a match for her gun," Lanie reminded them.

"But she turned her gun in," Ryan said.

"Her spare, idiot," Esposito muttered. Ryan ducked his head and Lanie pursed her lips disapprovingly, shaking her head at the two of them.

"She kept it at her apartment, but it must have been stolen," Castle provided.

"And she didn't notice?" Esposito queried incredulously, eyebrows tugging upward on his forehead to show deep wrinkle lines.

"Beckett hasn't had much need for a gun on suspension," Lanie jumped in before Castle could get a word out. "I think we should start with Beckett's apartment, don't you, Castle?"

"Right! Yes. Good plan."

He was suddenly overwhelming grateful that Lanie knew about him and Beckett. Hiding the truth from everyone was only going to get more difficult as time went by, and the way Esposito was looking at him with narrowed eyes suggested he had already started to suspect the truth.

The group shifted out of the bullpen, glancing over their shoulders and keeping a cautious eye out for Gates. Lanie regretfully headed back for the morgue, but Castle caught a ride with Ryan and Esposito for the trip across town.

Beckett's apartment seemed foreign; it had been so long since he had seen it.

Esposito coughed as they entered, and Ryan waved his hand in front of his face, wrinkling his nose. The apartment had the musty smell of disused space and a layer of dust was growing on every surface.

"Jeez," Ryan muttered.

Castle stood stiff by the door, caught in a realization.

_Beckett was living with him_.

"Alright, man, she's not living here," Esposito said with a shake of his head, facing off with Castle and crossing his arms. "What do you know?"

"Why would I know?" he stammered, backing up a pace. Esposito raised an eyebrow.

"Right. Why would you know where Beckett's been spending her time… it's not like you spent all summer in each other's company or anything. Every time I talked to her, she just _happened_ to be with you. Funny coincidence."

Ryan was frowning, eyes squinting with confusion. The dots were connecting, though. For both of them.

"No way she's got another guy," Espo continued. "Uh-uh. Give it up, bro."

Castle cut his eyes towards the door, seeking his escape, and Ryan made a sudden choking sound, finger pointing at him and hand waving erratically. "You and Beckett!" he exclaimed.

Esposito rolled his eyes dramatically. "No shit, man." He turned his focus back to Castle. "Spill, bro. How long's this been going on?"

Beckett was behind bars across town and Castle suddenly found himself envious of her. He swallowed nervously, sweat beading on his brow.

"Come on, guys…"

"Castle," challenged Ryan. He stood beside Esposito and crossed his own arms. For just a moment, the tension between them was gone and they were united.

He sighed heavily. "Since the night she resigned," he admitted.

Ryan sputtered and Esposito's eyes darkened like an older brother introduced for the first time to his little sister's boyfriend.

"So all the newspapers..?" Ryan was demanding. Castle was caught in Esposito's cold stare, though.

"You treating her right, bro?" Esposito questioned, his jaw set tightly.

"We're, uh… we're together," Castle coughed, shuffling his feet and tucking his hands in his pocket. Esposito nodded slowly.

"And living together?"

"Apparently," Castle agreed, gaze sweeping over the abandoned rubble of her former living space.

"About time," Esposito said. He clapped Castle on the shoulder. "Let's keep your girl out of prison, huh?" He stepped around Castle and started picking through Beckett's cabinets, leaving the writer to catch his breath. This was a lot all at once. Suddenly it seemed like he was broadcasting the news on loudspeakers. What was Beckett going to think of all her coworkers knowing about their relationship before they were ready to announce it?

He spun. "You can't tell Gates," he insisted. Esposito paused in his task. Ryan was still standing dumbfounded off to the side. Both of them nodded without hesitation.

"Of course," Esposito intoned at the same time as Ryan's "No problem."

They caught each other's gaze and Castle saw the camaraderie vanish back into turmoil. Esposito glared and slammed a few of the cabinets shut, moving across the room.

"Where does she keep her spare?" he asked Castle.

"I… I, uh, don't know."

Esposito shook his head and continued his search. Ryan began shuffling through her belongings on the other side of the room. There was a general air of discomfort about the situation. Castle began to look through the drawers of a desk, feeling like this was a greater invasion of privacy now because of his relationship with Beckett. They were digging through her life, dust covered as it was, and it didn't seem right.

"Rosewood's already been here," Esposito mentioned. "He hasn't filed his findings yet. Probably didn't get anything."

"The door was locked," Castle recognized.

"They used Beckett's key," Ryan shrugged.

"But the point is that the door _still locks_," Esposito pointed out. "No one kicked that thing down."

"So how did our thief get in?" Ryan asked pensively, scanning the room.

Castle moved through the apartment towards the window that led to the fire escape. It was latched properly, and he scowled. Esposito appeared at his side, eyes narrowing.

"See the scrapes there?" he said, sliding his finger along the edge of the sill, on the outer side of the latch. "You slide a hanger up in there…" he grasped an imaginary wire and jabbed it upwards. "There would be hole in the insulation… right there."

"Well there we go," Castle said, hoping flaring up inside him like newborn flame. "That proves someone broke in."

Even Ryan looked skeptical. "That's not enough."

Esposito shook his head. "Castle, we're gonna need more."

"But… but that proves someone could have broken in. That she didn't use her gun. And what about gunshot residue? They had to have tested her… and she hasn't fired a gun in a month."

"That stuff fades a lot faster in the real world, Castle," Esposito pointed out. "And Beckett would know how to get rid of it."

"She'd also know how to fake an obvious break-in at her apartment," Castle retorted.

"The defense will make sure to use that," Ryan assured calmly. "But right now… Castle, there's not much else we can do here."

"So… what, then?"

"We wait," Esposito ground out regretfully. "We wait until the prosecution gives us something to work with. They tell us they've decided something… we find a way to prove that they're wrong."

"Each and every time," Ryan added.

Castle squeezed his eyes shut. This wasn't what he'd wanted to hear. He had wanted to find something definitive. Something that would prove, without a doubt, that Kate couldn't have been involved. He wanted to bring her home tonight and make this entire nightmare disappear. He was being forced to accept that those ideals were a fantasy. Beckett was spending the night in prison.

"We should check the fire escape. And the alley," Castle insisted.

Ryan and Esposito shared a look that quickly dissipated, Esposito crossing his arms and grunting. It seemed the two were doomed to remember their quarrel at regular intervals. They were pulling at the seams of their partnership.

"Alright," Esposito said abruptly. The three men trooped out of the apartment, and Castle locked the door in their wake.

The alley was abandoned and windy, the sky turning overcast as night fell.

"Looks like rain," Ryan commented in an attempt to distract the mood of their outing. Both Esposito and Castle failed to find a response.

The walls were brick, and Beckett's apartment was on the third floor. They craned their necks up at the skinny windows they knew belonged to her, dark outlines of furniture just faintly visible in the approaching darkness. The fire escape zigzagged across the face of the building, slithering downward to an abrupt stop a few feet over Castle's head.

"They'd need something to stand on," Castle murmured to himself, scanning the alley.

"Here, Castle," Ryan said. He was crouched on the balls of his feet, pointing a pen at a strip of tire tread printed in a dry patch of mud. It was in line with the path a vehicle would need to take to pull into place below the fire escape.

Esposito raised his eyebrows. "That's something."

Castle pulled out his phone and snapped several shots from various angles, getting a zoomed in view of the tread-marks.

"Here," Ryan offered, setting his pen down beside the marks as a measurement reference. Castle snapped a few more shots.

"I think that's all we can do for now, Castle," Esposito suggested, and Castle reluctantly nodded his defeat, standing back up and shoving his hands in his pockets. This would have to be enough. "Come on, let's get back to the 12th."

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

_June 4__th__, 2012_

Her hands felt light, her fingers cold. She rubbed her wrists, soothing the tender skin where it had been rubbed raw by the handcuffs. The bailiff hooked the cuffs on his belt and Beckett turned at once to the seats behind her place at the defense table. Castle leaned forward and embraced her in an uncomfortable half-hug over the barrier. The courtroom was barren save for the prosecution, the defense, and the small gathering of support in the front row. A few reporters had been approved, and sat like shadows in the back, pens already zipping across their notepads.

Castle sat back down between his mother and daughter and Beckett saw both of them reach to clutch his hands in support. They were the only ones present, and she consoled herself with thoughts of Ryan and Esposito out hunting down leads. Karina Ross sat stiffly in her chair to Beckett's right, sifting through paperwork with a firm expression pressed into her olive skin. Beckett leaned forward and took in their opposition. Kaplan and Rosewood sat behind the prosecution, which consisted of three lawyers, from what she could see.

ADA Maggie Garrison was looking as professional as ever in her pinstripe pant suit, blonde hair pulled into a tight bun and glasses perched strictly on the bridge of her nose. The other two were unfamiliar, both young men in suits with crisp, blue ties. The older of the pair Beckett assumed to be the second chair, and the third was likely a temp.

Garrison was carefully avoiding looking in her direction. Beckett could feel the tension as though it were a palpable entity within the room. She and Garrison had worked dozens of cases together; Beckett had severed as a witness for her on a number of occasions. The two had not been friends; they had not had the chance to consider each other as such. They were friendly acquaintances, and it felt unnatural to be on opposite sides of the room.

Surely Garrison did not believe Beckett was guilty. Surely she would be willing to look further to find the actual truth in this case. She always had been, in the past.

Judge Marcus Taylor strode into the room and the room clamored to its feet. He waved his hand, scowling, and there was a scraping of chairs as the small gathering reseated themselves. Judge Taylor settled into his place, propping reading glasses on his nose and peering at the file that was waiting for him.

"We're here today to hear the arguments for bail on the case of Jocelyn Tam's murder. Katherine Beckett has been charged with the crime… this is an informal hearing… ADA Garrison, would you like to begin?"

Garrison cleared her throat and stood. "Your honor, Katherine Beckett is involved in a relationship with multi-millionaire Richard Castle. We have reason to believe she is a flight risk, having already fled the scene of the crime and covered her tracks. Her decision to murder Jocelyn Tam is a radical change in behavior and we believe her to be a danger to the public and herself."

The judge nodded coolly. "Ms. Ross?"

Beckett's lawyer stood. "My client is prepared to surrender her passport. She is not a flight risk, and the prosecution's claims of her irregular behavior argue to the fact that this murder was not even committed by her, not that she is dangerous."

"Fleeing a crime scene and resigning from her position at the NYPD are both irregular behaviors admitted to by the defendant," Garrison countered.

"And just because someone quits their job does not make them suddenly capable of murder," retorted Ross.

"Your honor, the defendant has killed a total of four suspects during investigations. That proves her capability for murder."

"Those were ruled clean kills. Unless you'd like to go after the entire NYPD for all deaths committed in the line of duty and question their capability to murder unarmed civilians…"

"That will be enough," Judge Taylor interrupted with a wave of his hand. "I ask that Katherine Beckett's passport be surrendered immediately to the bailiff. Bail is set at $20,000, and the defendant will be required to submit to ankle monitor tracking. This case will open in my court on the 16th. Dismissed."

He banged his gavel firmly and rose to his feet. The court broke into murmurs. Beckett's heart was racing in her chest. Her fingers felt numb, frozen on her lap like stiff little icicles. She was going home with Castle. The bail, the tracking monitor… the small details paled in comparison to the larger truth. She was going home.

The whole thing had taken less than five minutes.

Castle laughed behind her, a short breath of joyous relief, and she turned and shared a wide-toothed smile with him, hardly able to contain herself. Ross handed over Beckett's passport. The prosecution packed their briefcases.

They were required to stay in the courthouse for another twenty minutes while the monitor was obtained and programmed, but Beckett hardly recognized the passing of time as they sat in the hallway. She clutched Castle's hand tightly, leaning against his shoulder with her hair cascading down his chest. He was warm and she could feel his heartbeat in time with his steady breathing.

He had handed over the check instantly, having written it out only seconds after the judge announced the price that her freedom would cost. Alexis and Martha remained with them, Martha sitting on Beckett's other side and Alexis on Castle's.

Castle would fill her in on the details of the investigation when they were back in the safety of his loft, away from prying eyes and sensitive ears. There had been some progress, she understood, but his concern was evident in the dark circles under his eyes. He was not confident in what he had found. She forced herself not to worry about it. They would be home soon. That was all that mattered right now.

The bailiff arrived at long last, unboxing the bracelet. He asked her to raise her pant leg and she stood and placed her left foot on the bench while Castle and his family looked on in contemplative silence. The weight felt unusual, but he strapped it on tightly enough that it didn't slip or cut into her skin. It only took a moment, and then it gave a muted 'beep' and a red light clicked on.

"There you go," the bailiff announced with a shrug, straightening up. "Have a nice day."

"Ice cream," Castle said firmly, giving no other explanation. Alexis and Martha were watching her for a reaction, and she shivered under their pitying gaze.

"That sounds wonderful," she agreed.

They stepped out the doors of the courtroom, straight into a flurry of reporters.


	5. All This Time

**A/N: Hello again, everyone. This chapter's title/lyrics come from the OneRepublic song All This Time.  
**

**-{ Chapter 5: All This Time }-**

_**Take all the time lost  
All the days that I cost  
Take what I took and  
Give it back to you  
**_

_**All this time  
We were waiting for each other  
All this time  
I was waiting for you**_

_**We got all these words  
Can't waste them on another  
So I'm straight in a straight line  
Running back to you**_

_June 4__th__, 2012_

"Beckett!"

"Kate Beckett!"

"Detective, can you spare a—"

"Come on," Castle intoned softly into her ear, engulfing her shoulders with one arm and guiding her through the onslaught.

"No comment, no comment!" crowed Martha, flapping her arms dramatically. She plowed past Castle and led the way, shaking her finger threateningly at the reporters that were slower to move from her path. Alexis crowded along in her wake, clear blue eyes open wide. Camera flashes popped around them, the lights messing with Castle's vision.

"Is it true that you are under investigation by Internal Affairs?"

"What do you have to say about the charges against you?"

"Mr. Castle, can you confirm that your publisher has renounced your contract?"

"Don't listen to them," he murmured in her ear, hand on the small of her back as he guided them. The vultures gathered around his car as their group of four piled in, microphones waving and camera flashes popping at regular intervals. He pulled away from the curb, and the garble of voices faded as they disappeared into traffic.

"They'll be at the loft," Martha warned heavily.

Castle nodded, grey eyes locked fiercely on the road.

No one said anything for the rest of the drive, the silence like a heavy stone in his stomach. They didn't touch the radio, knowing what they were likely to hear, and so the only sound was the steady beat of traffic as they stopped and started at each set of lights. When they pulled into Castle's building, a news van was parked out front and a reporter was standing lax by the door, microphone hanging at her side as she gestured through her conversation with the cameraman. They both looked over as the car pulled into the lot, though, and he watched grimly as they scrambled into position.

So far, there was just the one van. He knew better than to think that this would be the worst of it, though. "Come on," he sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching over to give Beckett's hand a reassuring squeeze before opening his door.

"…Suspected of murder after resigning from the NYPD," the reporter was saying, her dark hair billowing in the wind that had picked up. It ruffled Castle's crisp, violet shirt and brushed Beckett's hair across her face as she stood. "While previously denying their relationship, mystery writer Richard Castle has just arrived back at his apartment in company with Beckett." The camera panned towards them, and Castle stepped around the car and took Beckett's hand in his, gripping firmly.

"What are you doing?" she asked seriously.

"They all know," he insisted. "Everyone knows. And they're gonna see… that you've got support. That there are people that know the truth and aren't going to leave your side. Okay?"

She swallowed, eyes glimmering like fresh morning dew. "Okay," she agreed thickly, squeezing his hand back.

They walked hand-in-hand across the short gap to the front of the building.

"What do you have to say about the charges?" the reporter asked, her heels clicking as she shuffled forward to catch them on their path to the building.

Beckett glanced at Castle, and he nodded shortly. The cameras were trained on them. There was a moment to ignore the reporters, to demand privacy… and there was another moment. Right now. This could be a chance to win some public support.

"I did not commit this murder," Beckett said tremulously. "And the evidence will prove that. Thank you."

The reporter blinked, mouth opening for another question, but they slipped past and moved for the door, his mother and Alexis crowding behind them.

"Are the two of you involved in a relationship?" the reporter called, regaining her voice just before they vanished inside. Castle held up his and Beckett's joined hands in response, and then stepped into the solitude of the lobby. The doorman tipped his hat grimly, and Castle slipped him a twenty.

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

_June 5__th__, 2012_

Beckett was still asleep at ten o'clock, when Castle finished his first cup of coffee, set down the newspaper, and turned the television on at a low volume. Alexis had come down for cereal but retired to her room, barely saying a word. There was an emptiness in her expression that he had almost questioned, but the silence that she swept into the room with her seemed to suggest that he maintain the status quo. He ducked his head, sipped his coffee, and let her retreat without a word. His mother had yet to make an appearance.

The paper was splashed with the headline 'Disturbed Heat' over a large image of Beckett in handcuffs from the afternoon when she was arrested. The article itself explained the charges against her, painting a picture the prosecution could be proud of. Kate Beckett was in the public eye, and she looked like a cop gone off the deep end. The news was no better, as reporters talked to psychologists who characterized Beckett as erratic and possibly influenced by a manic break. Talk show hosts joked about which reporter was next in line.

Castle could not keep himself from the case when Beckett was not around. In her presence, all he wanted to do was shield her. Make the harsh, negative attention vanish. But when he was alone… he pored through articles and first-hand accounts, dug through files, and conversed in hushed tones with Esposito or Ryan over the phone.

He had stayed up late last night, well after she had gone to bed, and gone through everything once more, desperate to see something that he had missed before. There had to be a missing link somewhere; there had to be something that could exonerate her.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Alexis asked from just behind him and he jumped violently, craning his neck around. His daughter leaned on the back of the couch, giving him a disapproving, raised-eyebrow look.

"Yes," he defended, scowling. "Did you?"

Her gaze shifted across the room, focusing on the lines of morning light falling like bars across the hardwood floor. "Some," she admitted honestly.

He tilted his head and patted the cushion next to him, prompting her to hop over the back of the couch and curl her legs up under her. "Is Beckett still sleeping?" she asked quietly. Castle nodded, watching the hesitation flicker across his daughter's face before she spoke. "My friends have been talking. Online."

Castle's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "What exactly have they been… talking about?"

She sighed. "The case. Beckett. You."

Castle swallowed past the unnatural tightness in his throat. He felt cold. "You don't have to listen to them," he started, and she shook her head rapidly, cutting him off. Her flaming hair spun with the motion.

"Dad… I need to know what's going on." She held up a hand to stop him, eyes narrowing warningly. "I'm _serious_. You're with Beckett and she's been arrested for murder."

"You don't think—"

She shoved his shoulder, just a little too fiercely to be just fooling around. "Of course I don't think she did it," Alexis hissed, sighing and throwing her head back into the couch. "I just… I need to know what's actually going on. I'm sick of being out of the loop, Dad. Especially with everything that's going on."

"Well, uh… what exactly did you want to _know?"_ he tested cautiously. Alexis was old enough to understand the details. Old enough to demand to know them. But that didn't mean he felt comfortable telling her all of it. Especially the parts where he and Beckett put their lives on the line by merely possessing information on her mother's case.

"Who wants to frame Beckett?" Alexis started with at once, the question clearly prepared in advance. "Someone involved with her mother's case? Somebody else? There's nothing online or in the papers and if anyone has a theory… it's you."

She had a point.

"We don't know," he admitted sincerely. "But… we assume it's somebody related to the case."

"The same person that shot Beckett last year?"

Right. She had been there for that.

"Possibly. He's certainly on our list."

"You know who he is?" Alexis clarified, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh. Yeah. Uh… we ran into him on a case a few weeks ago."

"Your last case?" Alexis demanded. "Was he the one that almost killed her again?"

"How did you—?"

"Internet, Dad. Was he?"

"…Yeah." Castle stammered.

"If he wants her dead, why would he be trying to frame her?"

"We don't… we don't know."

"So maybe it's not related at all?" Alexis theorized, tilting her head questioningly.

Castle blinked at her. Had he fallen through some sort of mirror into an alternate universe? Because it seemed as though his daughter was trading theory with him on a case that he _really_ did not want her involved with. And she was making _sense_.

"Yeah, maybe," he murmured thoughtfully.

"Good morning, good morning!" Martha called boisterously, sweeping down the staircase. "Ah, good, Kate's getting her rest," she commented as she noted the two of them seated alone on the couch. "It's been such a rough time on her, poor dear," she added with a wave of her hand, her flowing dress sweeping behind her on her path to the kitchen. "I'm going to make pancakes!"

"Maybe you should..?" Castle suggested in an undertone, and Alexis jumped from the couch.

"Good idea," she agreed quickly, shuffling her slippers in Martha's wake.

Castle remained alone on the couch, eyeing the remote control and contemplating whether it was worth the frustration to know what was going on. Finally, he resigned himself to reality and flicked on the television set.

The morning show crew was talking about a recent recall on baby strollers, and he relaxed as they moved into a segment on the weather. The rain from yesterday had not been the last of the storm; another wave was coming their way for that night. The phone rang just as they started talking about 'ideal health foods for summer.'

The caller ID informed him that it was Gina, and he grimaced and punched the 'ignore' button.

He turned back to the television to see his own face featured on the screen. "Mystery novelist Richard Castle has hit the spotlight again—and not for another novel. He has confirmed that he is involved in a relationship with embattled former NYPD detective Katherine Beckett, who is the inspiration for his latest string of crime novels. Beckett was arrested two days ago," the reporter continued in a calm, unwavering tone, "She is charged with the murder of Jocelyn Tam, a reporter who made a name for herself in recent weeks by investigating Beckett's departure from the NYPD. Tam was found dead in her apartment in the early hours of Saturday morning, and Beckett was seen fleeing the scene shortly before the arrival of detectives from the 19th precinct. Neighbors confirmed that they had heard gunshots only minutes before Beckett's departure. A trial date is set for the 16th of this month, and after a bail hearing yesterday, it seems Beckett will be back on the streets until then. Now, Andy—"

Castle looked up as Beckett shifted in the archway that led to the hallway and his bedroom. He changed the station and a bright cartoon lit up the screen.

"How long have you been standing there?" he asked, his mouth dry.

She shook her head, her gaze hanging down towards the floorboards. "Long enough," she sighed. His eyes flicked down to the bracelet strapped around her ankle. It hung unnaturally, coiled around her delicate flesh. She had kept her legs tucked up and away from him the night before, not tangling them with his like usual.

There was an uncomfortable distance wavering between them; an unusual silence.

"How did you sleep?" he asked tentatively.

She shrugged, pushing away from the wall and moving to settle on the couch beside him like a stray leaf slipping into a hollow. She wrapped her arms around her slim frame, the flowing nightgown wrinkling into her curves. Her gaze hovered over the cartoon on the screen, and it was as though she was looking straight through the television. The darkness in her eyes suggested she was seeing something that he would prefer she did not. He resisted the urge to ask what the night before had been like; the night she had been forced to spend in prison.

"I look guilty," she murmured.

"Kate…"

"I do, Castle," she insisted, turning to face him head-on, eyes alight with challenge and heartache. "Everything… everything they have seems to indicate that I did this. There's no proof that I _didn't_. I had the motive. The opportunity. The weapon."

"But this wasn't you," he said. "It wasn't."

She shook her head in slow astonishment, and then blinked and turned away.

He opened his mouth, not even sure what he was going to say, but he never got the chance to try. "Pancakes!" his mother called triumphantly from the kitchen. She swept into the living room, arms spread wide. "Kate, dear, you're awake! Come on, then, let's get some food in you. Richard, you too!"

~AxCxAxCxAxC~

Alexis glanced up from her spot at the counter as Gram returned with her father and Beckett in tow. A steaming plate of pancakes was settled in the middle of the space, and she sipped her orange juice in silence as the adults clambered into their chairs. Honestly, she didn't feel all that hungry.

Her friends had seen her on television yesterday, and the ones who had not already talked to her about the situation had come crawling out of the woodwork online. These were people she had left behind in high school. Many of them she had never intended to speak to again. They had left each other cheerful farewell messages in their yearbooks; that should have been enough closure.

Instead, there were questions. There was speculation. There were insults veiled as mere comments.

_Is she, like, your new stepmom or something?_

_ Did she kill somebody? Pretty messed up, Alexis._

_ Dude, your dad picked another crazy. Sorry, girl._

Her Facebook was buzzing with unpleasantness. A part of her was saying she should just sign off and not go back until this all blew over. But then she found herself engrossed in it, scrolling endlessly through the comments and the article links, unable to look away. She had to know what they were saying, no matter how much she hated them for each and every word.

_Call if you want to talk,_ Ashley had said, and she had buried her head in her hands and closed out the conversation box. _No_.

Lauren was pushing her for information, practically humming with curiosity. Alexis had no plans to feed her hunger for drama. Her life was not a television show and she was not going to open herself up to be gawked at. Nobody understood it. Nobody knew what she was going through.

Her dad scooped a few pancakes onto her plate and she glanced up, drawn out of her reverie. Thankfully, his worried gaze was focused on Beckett and not on her. She couldn't deal with questions right now. And besides, he had bigger problems to face than her high school friends. She glanced down at Beckett's ankle and then hurriedly focused on her plate, forcing herself to start cutting up the pancakes. They were buttery and soft, but she just wasn't in the mood to enjoy them.

It seemed she wasn't alone, as she watched Beckett trace lines in her maple syrup.

The detective looked tired. Alexis had adjusted to her presence in the loft, and she accepted the relationship that Beckett had with her father. They were happy, and therefore she was happy for them. In all her life she had seen her father truly at peace only a few times. When he had first started working with the police, he had been like a giddy child on sugar rush; there was so much to explore, so much havoc to wreak.

Then he had begun to fall for Beckett. To start with, Alexis had been concerned. He talked about Beckett nonstop, and he barely recognized that he was doing it. He gushed about every little thing she said, and Alexis was certain that they would become involved and he then he would get his heart broken. She had watched him in various relationships growing up, and none of them lasted long.

But then she had met Beckett in person. They had conversed and she had gotten to know the woman behind all of her father's stories. The detective was surprisingly easy to talk to. She joked and told stories about her teenage years. She gave excellent advice… and every other thing she said had some connection to Castle.

Maybe, Alexis had begun to think, Beckett had feelings for him as well. Maybe, this time, he wouldn't get his heart broken in the end. After all, Alexis had never before liked any of the women her father had been involved with. Beckett was a first, on many levels. She was… different.

And then there was the shooting. The chaos, the fear, the panic. She became certain that the one thing that could break her father would be losing Beckett, and that was only fortified after she overheard him telling Gram about his feelings for her. How he had told her that he loved her… and how she didn't remember it.

It was everything that happened in the aftermath of that declaration that had made Alexis skeptical when she discovered he and Beckett were seeing each other at long last. Her views on Beckett had grown over time, had been shaped by Lanie's opinions and by her own perceptions of the detective while on the job. All of her instincts told her that Beckett loved her father, and yet she said nothing, she did nothing, and Alexis watched as her father's spiral began. The slow descent into lovelorn depression. It was worse, in many ways, than watching him struggle with his mindless relationships that never went anywhere.

When she had first overheard Gram talking about how Beckett _did _remember she had initially been furious. Was Beckett just playing him? she had wondered. Did she really not want a relationship with him? Why else lie? Why else pretend to have not heard him?

But she had overheard more than just Gram and her father. She had overheard Beckett and Lanie. It was a side-effect of being involved in her father's work life. It was what happened when she floated in the background and went unnoticed. She was familiar with it and not always happy with it, but on occasion the unintentional skill gave her… insight.

Beckett was terrified, Alexis had come to understand. Terrified that things wouldn't work out. Alexis could understand that; she was just out of high school and fresh from a failed relationship. She knew that things did not always work out. She could see how her father's history could be a problem. After all, she had experienced its downfalls firsthand.

That was why she had waited to see how things turned out.

No matter her opinion on Beckett, she would always side with her father and his best interests. Which was why she stood with Beckett now, in the wake of all this disaster, and why she so strongly believed that there was no way she was behind this murder. Her father believed in Beckett, and that was all that Alexis needed, in the end.

She was going to prove her old friends wrong, and she was going to do everything in her power to help her father along the road to his happy ending.

How to do that, though… was the part she couldn't quite make sense of. She settled for swallowing a few more bites of pancake.

"Everything okay, there, Alexis?" her father asked curiously.

"Oh. Yeah, I'm fine, dad. Just thinking."

He nodded slowly, seeming to understand that now was not the appropriate time to ask _about what?_ He turned back to his plate, placing hid hand over Beckett's as he did so and threading their fingers. Beckett smiled tentatively, but the shadows under her eyes only seemed to deepen.

The phone rang, and the four of them stared at it for a moment, none of them moving to answer. Phone calls were not a good sign, these days. Her dad plucked it from the receiver and answered, though, which surprised her. She had almost expected him to just let it ring.

"Castle."

His face gave nothing away as he listened to the caller, deep wrinkles lining his forehead as he nodded slowly to himself.

"Alright. Thanks for the heads up."

"Who was that?" Gram asked the moment he had put the phone down.

"Doorman," he said grimly, shooting a concerned sidelong glance towards Beckett. "There's a collection of reporters out front."

"The vultures have swept in," Beckett muttered half-heartedly. Alexis couldn't decide if it was a sad comment or an attempt at humor. Either way, there was a great lacking of eye-contact for the next few minutes as they all ate in timid bites, no one quite sure how to address the issue.

"I have to get down to the studio," Gram said finally, pushing away her somehow-empty plate and getting to her feet. She swept out of the kitchen, and only seconds later Beckett spun on her stool and hurried in her wake.

Alexis shared a confused glance with her father, but when he made a move to go after the both of them she put a hand on his arm and stopped him.

"Martha, I'm so sorry," Beckett was saying in the other room, her voice muddled by the walls that separated her from them. "If I wasn't staying here—"

"Nonsense!" Gram insisted brusquely. "Don't you _dare_ apologize, Kate, dear. You'll stay here as long as you like."

There was a pause and then the door shut. Beckett reappeared in the kitchen, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. She hovered there on the threshold, eyes locked with Castle's, and Alexis cleared her throat and hopped off her stool.

"I'm going to… go work on… _stuff_. See you guys later."

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

Alexis smiled as she stepped past, her hair a flaming curtain behind her. Beckett bit her lip before pushing off the doorframe and reclaiming her seat by Castle's side.

"Are you okay?" he asked seriously, his eyes dark and pleading for honesty.

She wanted to just say 'fine' and brush him off. She wanted to distract him, find something else for them to talk about, anything that would make her forget about what was happening around them, what every clock was counting down to. She was going to prison, and she knew it. She wasn't sure he could understand the feeling coursing through her, the deep-sunk rock in the pit of her stomach telling her that everything _wasn't_ going to be okay. Because it wasn't. It really _wasn't_.

"I'm not going to beat this," she said quietly, and then raised a finger up just inches from his lips to stop him from interrupting. He closed his mouth obediently. "You're… you're going to say that I'm wrong, that of course everything will be okay and that's just… that's just _denial_, Castle. Look at the evidence. Look at the situation and pretend it's not me. Anybody would convict me, after this."

He tilted his head. "You wouldn't," he murmured.

There was a genuineness on his face, a deep honesty in his eyes. He believed in her, despite all the evidence, despite the world lining up against her. He was still by her side. She blinked away the biting moisture in the corners of her eyes.

"Castle, I'm scared," she whispered, staring back at him intently. "I am… _terrified_."

Gently, he reached up to cup the side of her face, stroking his thumb along the line of her cheekbone. She leaned into the warmth of his touch, feeling the scratchiness of rugged fingers on her smooth flesh. He smelled like ink and cinnamon, a combination only a writer could manage.

"I want to take you someplace safe," he said quietly, his eyes flitting back and forth, focusing on both of her eyes as he attempted to read the reactions there.

"What are you talking about?"

He lowered his voice, dipping his head. "Kate, we don't have to stay here. We can… get away."

She stared, alarm boiling up in her throat. "You want to run?"

"If you can't beat this… if the trial starts and you truly believe that they'll… that they'll take you away…" She shook her head, trying to ward off the words, but he didn't stop. "Yes, I want to run."

"We _can't_," she protested.

"And you can't go to jail for a crime you didn't commit," he insisted. "Kate, they'll kill you in there. You know they will. I can't let that happen."

She shook her head fiercely. "I'd be a fugitive on the run from the law. I'd never be able to settle anywhere or see my dad, or you…"

"I wouldn't let you run alone," he murmured.

Beckett pulled away from the touch of his hand on her cheek, and he dropped his hand.

"I'm not talking about this. The trial is still over a week away."

"So… we keep trying to prove you innocent?"

She wasn't going to say it was a promising endeavor. She still fully believed that there was nothing that could save her at this point. But if it would keep Castle away from planning their escape to Brazil or god-only-knew-where, then she was willing to give it a shot.

"Yes. You should go down to the precinct and see what the boys have dug up."

"You… don't want to come?"

She grimaced apologetically. "I don't think I'm welcome at the moment. Besides, my presence would attract a lot of attention."

He sighed and nodded in agreement. They both slipped from their stools and he engulfed her in a tight hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, taking in the scent of him, the smooth brush of his shirt on her skin, and the firm grip of his arms around her frame.

What was she going to do without him?

He had just stepped out the door and left her alone in the living room when the phone rang. She glanced at the door, half wondering if he had forgotten something, and answered with "Castle's phone."

"Oh," said the voice on the other line, clearly startled that a woman had answered. "Oh! Beckett, right. Sorry. This is Gina; I'm looking for Rick."

"He's um, not in right now." She paced across the living space, running a hand through her hair. "I can… take a message, though?"

"Can you make _sure_ that he calls me back? He hasn't been answering his cell phone and this is… urgent."

"I'll let him know."

"Who was that?" Alexis asked from the balcony overhead as Beckett placed the phone back in its cradle.

"Gina. She was looking for your father."

Alexis scowled. "Of course she was." The redhead sighed, shaking her head. She was about to turn back up the hall to her room, but then she hesitated and turned back to the railing. "Kate?"

"Yes?"

"Do you… want some company?"

Beckett smiled. "You know, that sounds nice."

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

The precinct was louder than Castle remembered. He was used to the dull background of ringing phones and rapid keyboard strokes. Today, the phones appeared to be ringing off the hook and the detectives brushed past him rapidly on either side, calling to each other and passing files across desks.

"What's going on, guys?" he asked, finally reaching the familiar cluster of desks. Beckett's was unnaturally empty; the sight still made him uncomfortable and he placed his back to it.

"Internal Affairs got through with another sweep," Esposito announced tightly, tossing a glance in the direction of Gates' office. An older man was standing in front of her desk with glasses perched on his nose, flipping through a file. She looked thoroughly displeased with her arms crossed and a scowl planted firmly across her face.

"I thought Gates was, y'know, one of them."

"Not anymore," Ryan filled in, shaking his head. "They're going after the whole precinct, her included, after this whole Beckett thing."

"Not so fun under the scope with the rest of us," Esposito muttered under his breath.

"Better try not to make yourself too obvious," Ryan put in pointedly, barely lifting his head as he scribbled something down rapidly on a notepad. He snatched his phone from its hook and made a rapid phone call, jotting down notes the entire time. "Right. Right. Right. Thanks."

It did not escape his notice that this 'inquisition' of Internal Affairs had cut down on the feud between the two detectives.

"So… what's all the rush about?" Castle asked, claiming a seat and hunching down in it just as the official-looking man in Gates' office did a sweeping glance of the bullpen.

"Gates has us working at maximum to put us back in the good graces of the higher-ups," Esposito explained in an undertone. "We're getting ahead on paperwork, tying up loose ends…"

"Prepping for court, checking back in with witnesses," Ryan added.

Castle felt his heart sink. "You haven't had time to look into Beckett's case."

"No, man, I'm sorry," Esposito sighed, and there was genuine sincerity in his eyes. "…How's she doing, anyways?"

"She's fine," Castle lied. "A little stressed, of course, but… we're gonna get through this."

Ryan and Esposito shared a glance and in that moment they seemed to remember their fight, both of them dropping their eyes back to their paperwork, fists clenching and jaws tightening.

"You haven't had time to, uh, check on that tire track we found?"

Both detectives shook their heads. "The _moment_ I get a free second, though," Esposito promised.

"Right, anything we can do," Ryan added hurriedly.

"Is there anything I can do here; anything that I can work on to help with her case?"

"Mr. Castle," a deep voice said from behind him. The tone dripped with displeasure. Ryan and Esposito both ducked their heads as Castle turned to face his addressor. The man from Gates' office stood over him, arms folded over his chest, foot tapping disapprovingly. A permanent frown was set on not only his lips but into the very muscles of his face. It was written in the wrinkles across his forehead and the silver traces in his erratic eyebrows. "What might you be doing here?"

"He was just leaving," Gates said sharply, appearing behind Esposito. "Weren't you, Mr. Castle?"

"Right. Of course," he said, getting to his feet. "It was nice to meet you," he added, reaching out a hand to the man in the suit.

"Officer Christopher Franklin," he said stiffly, giving Castle's hand a brief shake. "You are hereby banned from this precinct. Permanently. Your interference is not welcome here, Mr. Castle, and you are not to return under any circumstances. Unless you want to be arrested. And Captain Gates…" he glanced pointedly at Esposito and Ryan. "Keep your detectives in line."

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

"I understand, sir. Thank you," Castle said, hanging up his cell phone. He wasn't sure how to react, as he sat in the back of a cab at a red light. The mayor had just told him that he couldn't offer any more favors. He couldn't be caught up in the Beckett case, thus he couldn't be associated with Castle.

Castle had just lost his only opportunity to save Beckett. Suddenly, he could hardly breathe.

The more he had pushed, the more he had fought to find the truth and set her free, the better he had felt about what was coming and the more he had convinced himself that everything would be okay. Now, sitting in this cab as raindrops started spattering on the windows, he saw things for what they were. There was no jury that would not convict Beckett with all the evidence against her. Their team couldn't help them and Internal Affairs was out for all of their blood.

They were going to lose.

He thought back to that morning, and his suggestion that they should run. Suddenly, he was feeling a lot more serious. Honestly, neither option was ideal. Their whole situation was a nightmare, and no matter which way they went things wouldn't be fair. If they ran, they wouldn't be able to see their families ever again. They would likely have to leave the country. If they stayed… the only times he would see her would be in bright orange and through a thick sheet of glass. She would be surrounded by criminals and in constant danger. There was a chance she might be killed.

That wasn't the sort of risk he could take.

To never see his mother or Alexis again, though? And for Beckett to leave her dad behind, the only remaining member of her shattered family? How could they do that?

But, what if it truly meant the difference between life and death for Beckett?

He bowed his head as the cab started moving again.

She was opposed to the idea in all its forms. It was going to take a great deal of convincing to get her on board with running away together.

They arrived in front of his building and he closed his eyes briefly against the horde of reporters gathered on the sidewalk.

"Hey, you're that writer that's with the killer cop!" the cabbie exclaimed suddenly. "I _knew_ I recognized you."

"Yeah. Thanks," Castle muttered, handing over his cab fare. He didn't even bother to shield his face as he climbed out onto the curb. Immediately all eyes were on him as cameras began to flash. He waved his hands to ward off their questions, but it didn't deter any of them in the least.

"Good afternoon Mr. Castle," the doorman said tiredly, shaking his head.

"Same to you, Mitch," Castle said heavily, slipping him a twenty. The lobby was peacefully empty. A few of his neighbors stepped out of the elevator, but none of them addressed him or looked at him oddly. It was a bit of a relief, honestly.

When he reached his loft he found Beckett and Alexis sitting on the couch playing a card game. They both turned to look at him, and he smiled back in relief when he saw the easy grins on their faces.

"Hey, Dad," Alexis said cheerfully. "You're just in time. We can deal you into the next hand."

"The next hand of _what?"_ he asked with mock fear, eyeing them curiously. "Kate, are you playing poker with my daughter?"

"She was teaching me some new methods, actually," Beckett replied with a grin. "I'm gonna kick your _ass."_

"I see that you two clearly shouldn't be left alone." He tossed his keys on the coffee table. "Anyone up for pizza for lunch?"

"Sounds good to me," Alexis agreed, hopping off the couch. "I'll go get the menus."

She headed for the kitchen, and Beckett turned her attention to Castle. "Gina called. She needs you to call her back."

He groaned. "Great."

"It sounded urgent," Beckett added with a wince.

"Even better," he muttered, pulling out his cell phone and flipping through his contacts. "I'm sure this will just be _wonderful_ news… Yes, hello, Richard Castle returning the _lovely_ Ms. Gina's call…"

"Richard, I don't have time for your sarcasm. We have a big issue we need to discuss. The first of which being the cancellation of every event you had scheduled for the next two years."

"Wait, what?" he said, the defensive sarcasm dropping like a lead weight.

"You heard me. Book signings, literary events, readings, tours, forget all of it. I swear, you never listen to my advice on public image. First you fall off the most-eligible-bachelor list—and believe me I was willing to be happy for you and twist you into a charming, committed man that the public could love even more—but then you move in with a suspected murderer on a huge high-profile case. The press is all over this. Your face is out there in a _non -_ruggedly-handsome way and the phones here have been ringing off the hook. Do you have any idea—"

"No, Gina, and I really don't care." He scrubbed his hand up the back of his neck. "I'm dealing with a lot right now and some book signings are the _last _thing on my mind."

"Well they should be moving up because book sales are _down_." When he didn't say anything she pushed onwards. "That's right, Richard, they're _down_. Huge press storm, high-profile murder… and the people aren't buying your books anymore. The public is turning against you. Do you know that after something like this most author's would see a boost in sales? After the copycat killings from your novels we saw a drastic hike. Now, though, they're looking elsewhere. You're the idiot writer with the murderous ex-cop girlfriend. Do you have any idea how eager the public is to hate cops? You give them a reason and they will never forgive a cop. That's just how it works. What did I tell you about investing too much in your muse? For God's sake, Richard, is it even possible for you to create an original character; someone that's not based on _anyone_ in your life?"

He turned his back on Beckett, stepping across the room.

"Gina, stop. Okay? Just… _stop_. I don't care about book sales, or what the public thinks. This isn't about the books. The books don't matter."

"Alright. I'm glad you feel that way. Because Black Pawn is in talks right now to cancel your contract. Nikki Heat is going to be over. For good, Richard."

That gave him pause. Writing Derrick Storm had been fun. It had given him purpose, changed his entire world. He had loved it. But writing Nikki Heat… had been the single greatest choice he had ever made. There were hundreds of ideas running around in his head for future novels. There was so much that Nikki Heat had not yet done.

He closed his eyes. "What do you want me to do about it, then?"

"Stop it with this Beckett thing. Get out of town for a while and get your face back in the paper for extravagant parties and big purchases. Then, maybe, I can get you a few book signings and we can work on climbing back up. Okay?"

"Not going to happen."

"Richard. This could be the _end of your career."_

"You know what, Gina? I really don't _care_ if my writing is over."

He snapped his phone shut.

"I, uh… I think I ruined her day," he said when he turned back to Beckett. She was standing by the couch, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Castle," she said quietly. "Did… did you just give up your career?"

He opened his mouth and then shut it again. "Yeah. I think I did."


	6. I Won't Give Up

**A/N: Hello all, I hope you've had a nice month so far. Things have been crazy busy around here for me. Here is the latest installment; I hope you enjoy! Title song credit goes to Jason Mraz.  
**

**-{ Chapter 6: I Won't Give Up }-**

_**I won't give up on us  
Even if the skies get rough  
I'm giving you all my love  
I'm still looking up**_

_**And when you're needing your space**_  
_**To do some navigating**_  
_**I'll be here patiently waiting**_  
_**To see what you find**_

_**'Cause even the stars they burn  
Some even fall to the earth  
We've got a lot to learn  
God knows we're worth it  
No, I won't give up**_

_June 6__th__, 2012_

For once, Beckett found herself awake before Castle, his slumbering form rolled into his pillow and an arm dangling off the side of the bed. She eased herself out from under the covers and slipped into a robe before tip-toeing her way from the room. The loft was empty and daunting in its silence. The light outside suggested 9:00 a.m., but the clock on the wall informed her it was only 7:50. Alexis and Martha would still be asleep.

She slid herself into the corner of the couch where Castle normally sat, the worn indent engulfing her slender frame as she sank back into the cushion. There was a window open somewhere, probably the kitchen, and the faint hum of traffic from below was a soothing background constant, just barely audible.

The reporters would not be as active as yesterday. With time they would drift off and find other, more current stories to pursue. Until the trial, when they would return with a renewed vengeance. The trial that was only ten days away. She bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. Every morning there was a rush in her head, a pulsing beat that reminded her of her situation. She was still walking, still breathing, but she was living out the last of her days and she knew it.

Castle was right about running away. It was the only way she was going to survive. But she couldn't let him do it; she couldn't let him throw away any more of his life for her. He had already given up his career, but if she wasn't there he could reclaim it. It wouldn't be hard, either. The world would gladly clamor for the story of her fall from grace after she was locked up behind bars. After she was dead.

Her father was dropping by later today, now that the media storm had died down, and they were planning to go out for dinner with Castle. He had wanted to come by sooner to support her but she had talked him out of it, insisting that he was better off if he stayed out of the public eye. They had talked on the phone last night and she had given him minimal details, avoiding anything that would alarm him. She said nothing about her concerns or about Castle's idea to escape. He was the only one she lied to, the only one she told that it would all be okay. She knew it wasn't, and she knew there was no escaping this conviction, but she just couldn't tell him the truth.

What if she did run away? What if she took Castle's advice and took off? She could hardly take him with her and let him leave his family behind. But could she pull it off alone? She had the ankle monitor, for one, and if she was going to get away she would need to cut it off before fleeing. That gave her a limited time window and no resources. Castle couldn't help her, either, or he would be charged as an accomplice. She couldn't let that happen either.

There was no solution.

Beckett remembered the night she had spent in prison. The orange fabric, the solitary cell that served as her protective custody. No one has said a word to her, and she had almost been grateful for the isolation. If and when she returned, though, she knew better than to hope that would be a permanent situation.

She turned the television on and lowered the volume to a soft murmur. A morning crew was talking to an expert about summer health. The counter in front of them was lined with several bottles of suntan lotion. Beckett shook her head, trying to remember when something as simple and mundane as that would have fit into her life. It seemed like forever ago, when really it had only been last week.

Castle stepped into the room, the creaking of a floorboard alerting her to his presence. She spun her head and found him by the hallway threshold in his blue robe, her phone held up to his ear.

"Yeah, of course. I'll let her know. Thanks."

"Who was that?" she asked, when he had hung up. He came around the side of the couch and settled into the spot beside her, handing over the phone.

"Esposito. He's got something he wants to share. Him and Ryan are on their way over."

"Did he say what it was?" she demanded, sitting up straighter. She couldn't deny the small surge of hope that had just flickered to life inside her.

Castle shook his head. "No, but he said it was important. They told Gates they were following up a lead on another case to buy themselves a few hours with us."

She nodded slowly, silently quelling her fresh excitement. This could be nothing. There was every chance that nothing could save her, even her team.

On the television, they had switched feeds to a live press conference with a senator.

"I don't like this guy," Castle muttered.

_"Of course running for president is something I've considered, but my party holds to our core values and my time is not right now. Right now, I am needed here, in our marvelous state of New York."_

There was general applause on screen, and Beckett shrugged. "He's a typical politician."

The senator reached a hand up to his ear piece, and seemed distracted when the next question was called to him. Beckett picked up the remote and changed the station.

"How's Alexis's packing going?" she asked as a grey-haired weatherman on the screen gestured to a storm front heading towards New Jersey.

Castle sighed. "Slow. She's been spending so much time up in her room and I don't think she has more than her winter clothing packed at this point. Not that I want her to go."

"She has to," Beckett reminded him gently. "Besides, she still has a good portion of the summer left. There's time. And it would probably be good for her to get away from all of this."

An unwelcome image flashed through her mind, of Castle alone in the loft once Alexis was at school and she was in prison. She pushed it away, a shiver creeping down her spine. She didn't want to think about it, no matter how accurate it might be.

There was a knock on the door, and Castle leapt to his feet. Esposito stepped through the door the moment it was opened, and Ryan followed close on his heels. Beckett stood and accepted both of their embraces in turn.

"How are you holding up?" Esposito murmured.

She shrugged. "What have you found?"

"Got your laptop?" the detective asked, turning on Castle.

"Of course." He went to snag it from his office and Beckett glanced inquisitively between her two friends, waiting for an explanation.

"It's a video," Ryan explained. "The prosecution is using the scratches on your arm as evidence. They just got the results from the lab. Your DNA was found under Tam's fingernails."

"That sounds like _bad_ news," Castle said, rejoining the group. He set his laptop down on the coffee table and Esposito dropped down onto the couch in front of it, plugging in a flash drive.

"It would be, but _we_ found surveillance from outside your building. Beckett, remember you said you got scratched on the sidewalk by someone passing by? Well whoever that was clearly did it to create that negative evidence against you. No way that was a coincidence."

"Wait, can you see who it is?" Beckett demanded. She claimed the seat to Esposito's left and hunched in front of the screen. He loaded the video and hit play. The sidewalk in front of Castle's building appeared on the screen.

"This is from a surveillance camera on the building across the street," Ryan explained.

Beckett watched herself appear on the screen, and waited for the inevitable bump. It had been just before she started up the steps into the building… and there it was. On screen, she jostled to the side and then glanced down at her arm and grabbed it before looking over her shoulder.

"Go back," she said quietly. She needed to focus on the person that had bumped into her. They were in a black sweatshirt with the hood up, but she needed to see it again. She needed there to be something that gave away their identity.

Esposito brought the image back to the start, and Ryan leaned over from the other side and pointed to the side of the footage. "This is where he appears…" The black-hooded figure came into view just as Beckett appeared from the other side of the screen.

"It is definitely a man," Castle agreed with a nod. He was taller than Beckett and thickly built. When he bumped into her she had to catch herself from falling over. Esposito slowed down the footage so they could see him reach out for her arm.

"He cut me with just his nails," Beckett said, pulling up her sleeve to get another look at the cuts. "They must have been long."

"Weird for a guy," Castle agreed. "But this video… it proves that someone is trying to frame her, right?"

"It's not going to get them to drop any charges," Ryan warned. "But it certainly opens up some doubts for the jury."

"For one, how did your DNA get under Tam's nails if this is proof of where those cuts came from?" Esposito pointed out.

"Is there a better angle on this guy?" Beckett asked distractedly. She was still focused on the screen. The other's turned their attention back to her.

"We've been trying to narrow down a frame that shows his face, but it's no good," Esposito explained regretfully. "He keeps his head down the whole time and we get just a glimpse of the tip of his nose when he bumps into you. That's it. We need more."

"What about Tam?" Castle suggested. The others turned to him questioningly. "She was writing all these stories about Beckett; where did she get that information? Maybe from the same person that told her whatever it was about Beckett's mother's murder?"

"You're saying maybe Beckett was a convenient person to frame? The intention was Tam's murder?" Ryan suggested in astonishment. Castle nodded.

Esposito frowned, but he was nodding slowly.

Beckett was just glad that they were moving forward. She felt helpless when there was no avenue to travel down with this investigation.

"So we need to find who Tam was getting her information from," she reasoned. "And then maybe they can help us find out who killed her."

"And it's probably a cop," Esposito added darkly. "No way someone outside knows that much about our cases."

"So it's someone in our precinct?" Ryan asked anxiously, glancing at each of them in turn.

It was a heavy question. Beckett thought of the precinct, and the familiar faces of her coworkers. It was hard to imagine that any of them would murder a reporter and frame _her_ for the crime. She had never known any of them to have a grudge against her.

"Is there anyone you can think of that rubbed you the wrong way?" Castle asked her. When she shook her head he turned to Esposito and Ryan. "Have you ever heard anyone say anything about Beckett behind her back? Jealousy or otherwise?"

"Nothing stands out… there's been a lot of anger towards Gates lately, after what happened," Ryan explained. "But no one has ever had anything negative to say about Beckett. And I'm not just saying that because you're here," he added, turning to her and offering a smile.

"Might not even be our precinct," Esposito cut in. "There's always the chance somebody heard stories down the grapevine. We'll check out some of the local haunts, see what we can stir up." He got to his feet, and Ryan followed more slowly behind. "Stay safe and keep in touch," he intoned seriously, and then the pair of detectives let themselves out.

Beckett leaned back into the couch with a sigh.

"They seem to be getting along better, at least," Castle said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

She nodded. The improvement in her friends' attitudes towards each other was a definite positive in the long list of negatives that had become her life.

"Should we go out for breakfast, or settle for some eggs?"

"I wouldn't mind just an omelet."

He got up to head to the kitchen when there was a knock on the door. They looked at each other in confusion, and then he changed direction and headed for the door.

Detectives Kaplan and Rosewood stood on the other side.

"Good morning, Castle," Rosewood said stiffly. "We've got a warrant."

~AxCxAxCxAxC~

Alexis had been awake since seven, sitting in the glow of her computer screen while the sun slowly rose outside her window. She had heard the door open and voices downstairs, but she hadn't bothered to move. She recognized them as the detectives from Beckett's old precinct and assumed they were here to work on the case that her father had expressly told her he didn't want her involved with.

He didn't understand, though, and neither did her friends.

Jason, though, seemed to get what she was talking about.

She heard the conversation cut off downstairs and the door shut, and she glanced at her clock. It was just past 8:30. Her computer beeped with a new message and she refocused her attention.

_You still there?_ he had typed.

_Of course_.

There was a pause while she waited for his response. Her dad would be furious if he only knew what she was doing with her spare time these days, but she didn't care. He was trying too hard to shelter her. She understood why, of course, and she had no doubt that someday, if she had children, she would behave just the same. But right now, she was expressing what little rebellion she possessed in her.

Jason Deacon had contacted her. He had gone to her high school, something she had confirmed through various internet checks, and was now a student at Columbia, where she would be attending classes in the fall. He was very upfront with his reasoning, explaining to her that he had gone through much the same situation as her and wanted to offer some support that he had not received himself.

His father had not been innocent like he assured her he believed Beckett to be. He was studying criminal psychology in the hopes of joining the FBI, and from his profile picture (which she had matched with the yearbook) he was quite a charming young man. But his past was far from cheerful. She remembered the case from the papers, about the serial killer that haunted Manhattan for several months. She had only been in middle school at the time, but Jason had been a freshman in high school. When his father had been caught, he said he hadn't even been that surprised.

He was the first person to genuinely understand when she talked about how she felt with the media storm and the accusations and assumptions from everyone she knew. He had faced the same wave of unwelcome fame. Reporters wanted to talk to him and hear his side, and when he refused they placed him in a negative light through all of their articles. For the past few nights, they had talked late and shared stories. Last night they had video-chatted and she had confirmed that he was indeed the boy she remembered from high school.

Then this morning she had gotten up early, with new resolve, to take a fresh look at the files she had copied from her father's hard-drive. She had pushed her way through crime scene photos from Johanna Beckett's murder before, but now she focused more intently on the words in the accompanying reports. There was a lot to get through, and Jason had just gotten back from an eight AM class and was therefore awake to keep her company.

_Have you made any progress? Crime reports can be tough going with the way they write them. I've read my fair share and the intention is always comprehension by other cops and lawyers, not regular people like us._

_I'm working through, _she typed back_, It's slow going, but so far it makes sense. The hard part is where everyone else is at. Trying to figure out something new from the data._

It took him a moment to respond.

_Well it sounds like what they need is a fresh pair of eyes, and you are exactly that. Your dad found the first bit of info that got the case back up and running, and he wasn't a cop either._

He was right. Downstairs, she heard a knock on the door and she frowned. Someone else was here? This early in the morning?

She stepped away from the computer and headed out onto the balcony. Two men were just stepping through the door, and her dad was reading from a long sheet of paper. Several uniformed cops came through in their wake, and she spun and dashed back into her room at once.

_Gotta go,_ she typed quickly, and then shut down her laptop and gathered together the files that she had spread across her desk. Bundling them into one stack, she climbed onto her chair and unhooked the air vent, slipping the whole thing inside. It was a handy trick she'd learned from a television show years ago. She snapped the vent back in place and twisted the screws before returning to the balcony.

"What's going on?" she called. Her father glanced up in surprise, and Beckett as well. The cops were sweeping through the apartment, rifling through cabinets. They had already collected the files he'd had out on the table, and one of the detectives was sitting in front of his laptop.

"Search warrant," he explained wearily.

"This one is for your house in the Hamptons. We have officers there, now," the detective standing by the chair announced, handing over a second piece of paperwork. Castle reluctantly accepted it and roved his eyes down the list. Beckett moved to his side to read it as well. She hovered for a second at the top of the stairs in her pajama pants and baggy Columbia t-shirt, and then hurried down to join them.

Two officers headed past her and up the stairs, and she stared after them for a moment.

"Sorry, sweetie," her dad apologized regretfully. "It's not like they're going to find anything here, though."

"That's where you're wrong," the detective in front of the computer announced. "You have copies of official police files for ongoing investigations, and the last time I checked… neither of you were police officers. And we passed two of your former colleagues on our way into the building; your precinct apparently needs further reminding about interfering with our cases."

"We'll be confiscating all of this material," the other one added firmly, tapping a pen against the palm of his hand. "Are there any copies we should know about?"

Her dad shook his head, putting an arm around Beckett's shoulders to pull her into his side.

Alexis thought of her copies upstairs, and the data she had stored in her computer, and said nothing. The two detectives who had gone upstairs returned empty-handed, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief that they had not searched extensively in her room. And why would they? She wasn't the target, here.

One of the detectives pulled out his phone and put it to his ear.

"Got anything?" He nodded to himself as the person on the other line responded. "You just made my day." He hung up and turned to Castle and Beckett. "We just found the murder weapon at your house in the Hamptons, Mr. Castle. What do you have to say about that?"

"What?" he demanded as the other detective moved around him and snapped out his handcuffs.

"Richard Castle, you are under arrest as an accessory to murder and obstructing an official police investigation."

"Dad?" Alexis gasped, staring at him.

"I'll be back soon," he promised as they looped the handcuffs over his wrists. "I love you. And I love you, too," he added, turning to Beckett with a desperation glinting in his eyes. Her hand was grasping his, not wanting to let go.

"I love you," she whispered, "I'll be down at the precinct as soon as I can…"

They took him out of the loft, and Alexis stared after the closed door with her mouth hanging open. They were alone, all of a sudden. The coffee table was cleared. The laptop and her father's office hard-drive were gone.

"Can they really do this?" she asked disbelievingly.

Martha appeared by the balcony. "For heaven's sake, what happened in here?"

~BxCxBxCxBxC~

"Martha, how did you sleep through that?" Beckett asked in astonishment.

"Through the invasion of privacy, you mean?" Martha huffed, clutching her robe more firmly around herself as she descended the stairs. "Now, where is Richard and why did a troop of police officers just wander through my bedroom?"

Alexis threw herself into her grandmother's arms the moment she reached the bottom of the staircase. "They arrested him," she said, her voice muffled against Martha's shoulder.

"They did _what?"_ Martha demanded, glancing up from Alexis to stare at Beckett in open alarm.

She nodded just a fraction, hardly wanting to acknowledge the truth of the situation. "They just took him out. They're… they're charging him with 'helping' me."

"Well then why don't they just arrest the lot of us!" Martha cried, throwing her arms up as Alexis released her embrace. The older woman must have seen a shift in Beckett's expression, because she stepped forward and wrapped her arms crushingly around her. "Oh, Kate, dear, it's going to be okay."

"I know, Martha," she sputtered, but the other woman had already seen through her façade.

"Well come along, then, let's look alive and get moving. Can't leave Richard down at that dreadful station all by himself. Should probably call up his lawyer…"

"I've got it," Beckett assured, and Martha nodded before sweeping back up the stairs to make herself presentable. Alexis shuffled along quickly in her shadow, and Beckett sighed and dialed the far-too-familiar number in her contact list.

"Ross," chirped the response after only a single ring.

Beckett took a breath. "Ms. Ross, It's Kate Beckett. I've got a situation."

~CxBxCxBxCxB~

"I do hope you haven't said anything I'm going to regret," Karina Ross muttered as she settled into the chair to Castle's right.

"Not a word," Castle assured her. "…How's Kate?"

"She's out waiting for you with your mother and your daughter," Ross assured him. "I'm getting déjà vu, and as much as I appreciate your business, this isn't looking so good on you." She flipped open the folder she had brought in with her. "This tells me you were investigating a sealed file, which you had unauthorized copies for. Richard, wasn't this the first thing you got yourself arrested for? Has four years taught you nothing?"

"Actually the first time I got arrested was that, uh… thing with the horse and the nudity…"

"Yes, the _police_ horse," she snapped disapprovingly. "Most people who get arrested are looking to _avoid_ it. You seem to almost enjoy it, at this point…"

"I'm hoping this will be the last time," he promised. "How soon can I get out of here?"

"Well, they have no evidence that you were involved in the murder. The gun was a match for ballistics, though, and it was found at _your_ beach house. Now, I know that someone is trying to frame Kate, but I also know that the two of you visited the Hamptons this past weekend, just after the murder. The prosecution knows it, too. Richard, you are not the target of this investigation. Kate is. And they're about to bury her."

He bowed his head. "They took all of the evidence; everything I could have used to exonerate her. I don't have anything else."

Ross frowned. "You're telling me you don't have back-ups?"

He shook his head. "They got all of it; took my hard-drives and everything."

The lawyer leaned forward. "How did they know where to find that, Richard? I've heard some whispers…" she glanced towards the two-way mirror, and then shook her head. "Foolish rumors, really. Just be more careful. They'll nail you to the wall _with_ Kate if they can."

The door to the interrogation room opened, and Detective Kaplan stood on the threshold.

"Mr. Castle, you'll be expected to attend a hearing in two days to face charges for your possession of those files. The murder accessory charge will be dealt with after Beckett's trial. Now, we need this room."

He got to his feet without complaint, walking out of the room with Ross close behind.

"Dad!" Alexis cried, practically tackling him. He laughed and clutched his arms around her, looking at Beckett over the top of his daughter's flame red hair.

"Are you okay?" he asked her as she stepped forward.

She nodded hesitantly.

"Oh, Richard," his mother sighed, hand pressed flat over her heart. "I do wish you'd stop getting yourself arrested."

"I'll try," he promised with a half-hearted smile. _After Beckett is safe._ "Come on, let's go."

Once they were safely in the car, Beckett filled him in on what had been going on elsewhere. Ryan and Esposito were being interrogated by Internal Affairs, and were both facing suspension for their interference with the investigation. The surveillance video they had obtained had been handed over to the defense as required by law, though, so at least it was not all a loss.

Castle kept quiet about what Ross had told him until they were back at the loft.

"Alright, I've gotta do something once we're inside. Nobody say anything about it, okay?"

"What?" the three women asked at once, confusion written across their crinkled brows.

"Just… no one say a word, okay?"

Hesitantly they each nodded. Once they were inside, the three of them grouped by the door, watching as he dashed to his study. He dug through his cabinets, which were in disarray after the intrusive search from that morning, until he found the device he was looking for. He had gotten it for himself after writing the second to last Derrick Storm novel. Mostly, it had been just for fun; he had always loved gadgets, no matter how pointless they might be. But today it seemed he might have use for it at last.

He returned the main sitting room, and watched Beckett's eyes widen with understanding while Alexis and his mother frowned and tried to get a better look at what it was he was holding. Beckett swiftly crossed the room to his oversized whiteboard and snapped open a marker.

_You really think so? _she wrote in her trademark block letters. He nodded back, and then fiddled with the gadget until the screen lit up. She came over to join him and, having obviously used one of these before, took control. By now, Alexis and Martha seemed to have reached an understanding of what was going on. They stood off to the side, out of the way, and wore matching expressions of concern.

Castle made his way around the room, waving the device over lamps and curtain rods with Beckett tagging along and watching the screen over his shoulder. It was picking up something, but he couldn't seem to get closer to it. He would slow down his movement and it would sense the same amount of interference on the line. It was picking up bugs _everywhere_, and he frowned in frustration. Was it broken?

Beckett took it from him and the screen changed, spiking upwards. They lowered their focus, searching along the lower portions of the walls near the plugs and the bottoms of end tables, until they were scanning the floor in a seemingly pointless search. The lower they got, the higher the readings went, until they were crouched on hands and knees and the readings dropped again.

Castle motioned to ask for the device back, scowling in frustration, and she handed it over as she continued patting down the carpet pointlessly, her brow crinkled. It was when she turned away from him that a dreadful thought crept into his mind. He reached the device over and swept it across her ankle. The screen lit up brighter than ever.

"Beckett," he breathed out.

She turned back and he turned the device towards her, still positioned over her ankle.

They had found their bug.

~RxExRxExRxE~

Jenny was going to have a heart attack when she found out, Ryan thought uncomfortably as he watched Officer Franklin toss his and Esposito's guns and badges into a cardboard box. The _clang_ of Gates' badge on top, though, made him close his eyes for just a beat of a second, an uncomfortable sensation creeping down his spine.

The Captain was standing icily to the side while Ryan and Esposito faced their inquisition head on, but she had not been left out. There were three suspensions from the 12th precinct today, and Officer Franklin's face was so impassive that it was impossible to tell if he was glad to be rid of them or just disappointed. Maybe he truly didn't feel anything at all.

Ryan felt it, though, the weight of failure sagging on his shoulders. Still, it was a more proud place to be than where he had stood last time, watching through the glass as the guilt twisted knots in his stomach. Last time, he had done what he had thought to be right. Maybe Esposito had not forgiven him for his decision, but Beckett had. Given the choice, he would do just the same even without knowing the outcome. And this time, he felt just the same. He had made the right decision, no matter how it had turned out. Beckett needed him, and he wasn't going to stand back and follow the rules if that meant losing her.

It seemed like either way their plans were doomed, though. All of the evidence they'd been working off of had been confiscated. Everything Castle had at his apartment was gone from today's search, and all of Beckett's had been taken during the original police search of her apartment. They had nothing, especially now that both he and Esposito had been suspended and would no longer have access to the case files in storage.

One by one they filed out of the office, with Gates at the rear. Franklin settled into her desk, adjusting his tie.

"You two," Gates demanded the moment the door was shut behind them. "Come with me. Now."

Ryan shot Esposito an alarmed glance, which was returned, for once.

Gates' heals clicked menacingly with every forceful step she took, and the pair of detectives had to hurry along in her wake to keep up. She ushered them into the break room and glared at Velasquez until she collected her lunch and rushed out.

"Captain, we didn't mean to—"

"Shut. Up," she cut him off. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and ducked his head. "Both of you are going to listen _very _carefully. You have just possibly lost me my job. My job that I happened to _love_ very dearly. You will tell me where you are going when you walk out of this station, and you had damn well better be honest with me."

Ryan swallowed, cutting his eyes at Esposito and leaving him to take the initiative on this one.

"We're going to Castle's loft to work with him and Beckett," Esposito sighed tiredly.

"Good. I'm coming along."

Before Ryan could formulate the _huh?_ that was jumping up and down on the tip of his tongue, his phone buzzed in time with Esposito's.

_There's a bug in Beckett's ankle monitor._

Apparently, it was possible for things to get even worse.


End file.
